


Echoes

by Deathbyhook



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Abuse, Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:03:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathbyhook/pseuds/Deathbyhook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fear rippled through the mother’s being when no cries are heard; her frightened eyes connecting with a cloaked man before her. The anxiety burrowed in her chest only to be assuaged when he raised the baby into her arms and it is simply wide-eyed and quiet, gazing at the N’ung sweetly floating above. Their wings silent now. The mother could only hear one thing. The steady breaths and beating heart of a child that was never supposed to exist."</p><p>Rey learns just how entwined the Skywalker family is, with her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> The point of this story is one big 'HELL YEAH' dedicated to the Reylo fandom. I have spent the better part of the last two months obsessing over every detail in the movies, books, toys, media regarding Force Awakens. And aside from my shipping goggles, if one were to look at all the material provided, one would see the excessive amounts of foreshadowing for Reylo. And this fic, is basically me taking it upon myself to predict what we'll see. 
> 
> I do not own these characters! credit goes to Disney! 
> 
> Lastly (but most importanly) thank you Teague for beta'ing this fic! and to deadbeatpillowcases on Tumblr for enduring my ridiculous plot ramblings via messaging!

In a galaxy far, far away there is a planet riddled with the bones of annihilated Destroyer ships and Rebel fleets. A place where a desert consumed the surface, and sparse moisture rods jut out from the sand to sustain the little life that did remain. A perfect dune infested battleground to bury secrets, and leave behind a past best forgotten, but nonetheless a scar on the Galaxy’s history. Beige and hot, seared into the fabric of life that continues to move on. An echo of regret.

Not far from this planet is an uncharted moon; a fortune that favored a refugee and the stranger with her. The moon was gifted a healthy atmosphere, its humid climate an indication of the fiercely beautiful rainstorms that cycled through the floating isles. They wet the rich soil beneath, and lathered the air in sweet, musky aromas.

There was no intelligent life there, save for the seemingly aware N’ung; an arthropod life form. So it was foreign to the native species, to see a docked ship hidden in an alcove carved out by a hastened landing. Splintered trees and rivets carved from the landing gear into the dirt, an echo of desperation.

The N’ung’s iridescent wings beat communally about their round bioluminescent bodies, making it a wonder they could fly at all. There was a shift in the air, and they hummed a little louder. A soothing song; a stark contrast to the wails of childbirth below.

Sweat beaded on the swells of sharp cheeks and on a forehead broken only by soft brown hair. Brown eyes spark to life as a wet babe heaves out with a final push. Blood and amniotic fluid gushed onto pale, emaciated thighs.

Fear rippled through the mother’s being when no cries are heard; her frightened eyes connecting with the cloaked man before her. The anxiety burrowed in her chest only to be assuaged when he raised the baby into her arms and it was simply wide-eyed and quiet, gazing at the N’ung sweetly floating above. Their wings silent now.

The mother could only hear one thing. The steady breaths and beating heart of a child that was never supposed to exist.

\------------

“No!” Rey springs forth, grasping about her for her staff. Master Luke doesn’t come running anymore; the night terrors are an accepted constant of their cohabitation. He has simply moved to the dwelling furthest up the island, where the Force steeps in a comforting warmth, drowning out her screams and unbalance. She almost wishes he would yell at her to grow up, to quit screaming of nightmares; she certainly reprimands herself.

It is always the same dream. The Force vision from before. A long, dark, mechanical corridor of an unknown ship or base; one that she holds no memory of. It melts away into fire and sand, ‘til she is knee deep in sludge and rain. There is a whooshing above her, and then Kylo Ren’s saber is tearing a hole through a masked man’s torso. Suddenly he is further away, and something in the middle of her strained from the distance. It exploited a fear she’d rather not voice, even in her sleep. A connection better kept unacknowledged. But he swivels to see her, and Rey couldn’t help but feel this is different. She must have said something; there is a piece she has yet to find. Her fear drowns those musings, and he is coming for her. They are in the forest again, snow glittering dully in the darkness, and she can feel him. He is closer. The strain slacked a little, and before she knows it, his saber is ablaze nearly touching the tip of her nose.

And she screams herself awake: rinse, repeat. Every night it is the same. Yet every night it is different.

She’s been training for weeks. And she is strong. Rey stretches her tense muscles and palms her calves to soothe them with a little Force therapy that Luke has taught her. He has taught her little else.

There is an unkempt resetment billowing within her, and regret for coming here. For leaving Kylo Ren in the snow alone to die. She shakes her head, and stands to run drills. Her legs bend in front of her in a graceful lunge, the four corners of her feet plant firmly on the ground. She is centered and focused, and she can do this. A flick of her forearm just so, a spin and she has the staff balanced perfectly for a fatal blow to a phantom foe before her. She envisions a mask. Trimmed with tarnished chrome and an infuriatingly monotonous vocabulator.

It is a dangerous game she plays. Rey skirts the phantom opponent. His mask, as always, crumbles; his long freckled face was revealing itself to her again, and it makes her want to scream.

She returns to her drills immediately; over and over she exerts herself. Like a beating fist to the ribs. He isn’t a nightmare at all, but a dream.

Rey wants to wake up all the same.

\-------------

He sees her. Every night. Kylo feels her fear, and he turns, the mask thankfully shielding the rain from his eyes. She was standing there, drenched to the bone and wielding the staff. A sentimental weapon of choice. A weakness. She is exposed and outnumbered. But the dynamic has shifted. Where he should want to tear her down with his brothers, he feels the itch of apprehension. Where Kylo should see this as a blatant victory, he feels the weight of her impending loss. And when his comrades urge him forward to finish the deed, he finds himself staggering toward her. The biggest horror of all is that he is going with the intent to protect her. Abandoning the twisted masks and cloaks of darkness behind him. They scream his name in abject horror and Kylo startles awake, his being shaken to the core. Her face echoes in his mind’s eye, like a flickering light flooding warmth into the cracks of his resolve.

He feels another shift then. A dark slithering _thing_ pushed itself into his mind. A familiar discomfort that never dulled in its abrasiveness. Always the brutal jamming itself into the fissure of his cranium.

_Kylo Ren, come, as sleeps seems to burden you; let us begin today’s training._

Snoke always makes sure to molest his words with nuanced hatred. Especially when he mentions training.

Kylo may be dark and irrevocably vile, but he is not stupid. He is well aware of the contempt Snoke holds for him. A resentment spawned from the fact that Ben Solo is his apprentice. A half-blood, Force-sensitive who consistently undermines his authority. The only powerful child of the Force, willingly trained in the dark side. Kylo can never escape this. Even if he wanted to be an equal, he has proven more than once that his unchecked temper makes him a target for faux respect. Going to the light, a chronic ailment he seems cursed to suffer, was out of the question. Kylo will not belong anywhere other than where he is now: a subservient child who had run from home and killed the man who named him.

Suddenly a ripple of context slips past his initial awareness. A piece of the dream his subconscious had skimmed over.

A word.

Not a spoken word. No, it was like an emotion had manifested itself into in his consciousness, calling out to him. He had turned to her because he had felt it. A single word, one he now realizes he needs to hear her say more than he needs to breathe.

_Ben._


	2. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mother makes a life altering decision. Rey makes a friend in the Force... sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope the brevity of these first two chapters aren't too painful... I need to get the exposition of this story carved out so that i can get to the real plot and world building. Thank you for reading and keeping patience. I am, myself, a word count freak so the fact you gave my lil fic a chance is appreciated! Thank you!

The child flourished, much to the mother’s dismay. Its existence is a charred streak upon her life. A reminder of the life she had escaped. Cold corridors of black walls and blinding lights. Machines that probed and violated. Had she not deserved better? Was the universe truly this cruel?

She had been a pilot. Young and full of hope. And one, albeit victorious, battle lead to her capture. Stolen away to live alongside droids and mad scientists to fulfill obsessive delusions. Delusions that had come to fruition.

A Force child. A designer, test-tube baby made for the sole purpose of becoming the most powerful Force-sensitive to ever live.

Five years of covert trips to Jakku, and raising the little abomination has brought her to a breaking point.

She actually loves the girl. Every attempt to thwart herself and despise the child has been unsuccessful. The girl has her eyes, her laugh, and her hair; like her grandfather before her. The little girl has a fire and compassion that is unrivaled to any other lifeforms she has ever befriended.

They live in a shed. After many nights spent in the cold cabin of the shuttle left behind by the stranger. It was warmer outside, and the babe cried less. So she collected branches and vines from the canopy around them, and nearly a year later (plus a few near death experiences) they had a functional home within the sturdy branches of an old tree, to avoid flooding from the rains. The girl learned to walk in this home, learned her first words. Much to her pained heart, Mumma is her first word.

She has a light. Strong and beautiful, and it hurts. Because it’s hope that her dark beginnings may not prove lethal, after all. And she, the victim of endless experimentation and torture, feels the most unrelenting self-hatred. How can she live with this child for the rest of her life? Why isn’t her love enough to make her see passed it? How could she possibly think of abandoning the girl?

On the child’s fifth birthday she surprises her daughter with a gift. A trip to Jakku.

“I’m going to get you a present from the sir over there. Stay here.”

She walked over to Unkar Plutt, and she made a deal. She could taste the bile in her throat. He was all too eager to have a new slave. Unkar followed her back to the child.

“Mumma! What did you get me?”

“A home, child. You’re going to stay here, until mum comes back.”

“W-what? Where are you going? Why?”

Pain burrowed itself into her chest, and she had to look away. The sniffles and tears of the child made her fingers itch, and she fought the urge to soothe her-- it. Her eyes roam over the dunes, and the sounds of machines whirred in her ears. She looked back at the child, her resolve unshaken.

“Do not wait for me.”

Unkar huffed, appreciating the display of callousness, “What is the girl’s name?”

She had never named the child. There wasn’t anything that could pin point who or what she was. What she meant to her. Nothing pleasant. But if this was the last time she saw the child, leaving her without a history, she may as well leave her with an identity.

“Her name is Rey.”

With that she turned, forcing her every step away from the begging, sobbing child. It wasn’t until she left the atmosphere, sitting in her pilot seat that she snapped.

“I swear, Rey, I will find and destroy the people that did this to us. Then-- then I will come for you.”

 

“Rey, let go. I know you’re afraid. I feel it, too.”

Her eyes open wide. Master Luke’s kind eyes bare into her own. He smiles gently, ignorant of the pain he just lanced her with in her spleen.

“The Force, it is life. The light, it will guide you; show you your limits. It will tell you where you can soar. Feel it. It won’t consume you. Trust in me.”

And she does. Closing her eyes, she feels the waves held back by a wall. They crash and recede, and crash again. She wants to go slow. Takes one brick down at a time even though it is painful. Each brick, a blistering stone on her hands. She needs to let go.

Trust in me.

She smashes the wall all together, the debris sweeps away in the immediate swell of the force ripping through her every cell and limb. She hears a gasp, and her eyes fly open.

Luke is jaw-slacked and standing, slowly turning to observe the phenomena around him.

The rain is light now, and little droplets hit the stones of the courtyard’s floor. Stones that have lifted from the ground and float serenely about them. Some rapidly twirling, others simply gliding through the thick air. He turns to her and smiles. She can feel a turmoil of emotions. He looks proud.

But she can sense the fear. She also senses the jealousy. An emotion that jars her.

He lays a calming hand on her shoulder then, interrupting her shock, and she realizes she is just as afraid; her heart pounding.

“The Force is strong in you, but you are stronger yet. Have faith that you and the Force are one, and you shall see the Light can guide you where you are needed to be. This,” he gestures to the eerily calm stones about them, “Is your Force. And never doubt that it is as fearsome as it is beautiful.”

With that he stands and begins to walk away. He leaves the enclosure of stone and sparse weeds, and she finally releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. And with the exhale she allows her Force to lower the stones. Waiting for the initial fear to subside. She closes her eyes again; testing her limits. Reaching out in the Force.

A familiar itch comes to her, in the back of her mind; one she only feels when she in deep sleep. A soft touch upon her cranium that sends shivers down her vertebrae. It is dark, but not black. A liquid oxblood that is warm and thick and consuming, and it awakes terror in her how much she likes it. Upon instinct, her Force sends itself to fill in her fissures. Her light, a silver thread, like a streak of snow shimmering in the sun, tests the oxblood. It burns. But pleasantly so. She can feel its heartbeat hammering in time with her own. And with a sudden shudder of curiosity, she asks a question.

_Who are you?_

It recoils then, almost ripping some of her light with it. And her chest heaves from the oxygen that goes instead. When she opens her eyes, and comes back to the world, the suns have set and the scents of supper have flooded the quad. She peers over to the open door of Luke’s cottage, and the steam rising from the tiny, primitive cylindrical vent in the roof.

To test if it was all real, she extends a hand to a stone, and with a thought it raises from the ground and she flips it gently to set back down. Yes, it was real... All of it.

She pushes the flimsy wooden door open, and observes Luke pressing loose robes into his midsection, as he stoops over the pot of a gelatinous, savory mush he calls stew. A mundane act, for so great a legend.

“Master Luke, why did you come here? To the island?” she asked as they sit adjacent to one another. The fire lighting and warming their space. He hands her a bowl, and ladles in the slop.

“To learn to defeat the darkside. I came here to finish what my father started,” a shiver runs down her spine just then. An echo of a memory bites at the Force in her.

_I will finish what you started._

This was not her own memory. As she searches within herself to discover where it came from, that dark caress comes again. That threateningly gentle thing was there, all too eager to respond to her unspoken question. Not words but an irrevocable vibration of emotions that hums vowels and consonants all the same. 

_It is me._

She nearly drops her bowl, and the carved wooden utensil handed over to feed herself. The stew splashes and singes her skin. She feels disgust, fascination, and rage coarse though her then. She responds in equal eagerness, though malignant in tone.

_Kylo Ren_.

He rips away again, and this time he takes a little of her hate with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the story is going to get weird and dark from here... PLEASE REVIEW! i love hearing what you all have to say:)


	3. Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey can't truly ignore Kylo... And Kylo doesn't seem to know how to resist either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore the empathic side of force bonds. like the one that luke and leia seemed to have in ROTJ. 
> 
> lemme know what you think, or share if you like the fic:)

The lights were blinding. A constant. A persistent ache upon her retina. One that tried to keep her in the present. Though she ruminated over her time there.

Weeks. Months. _Years_. She was not sure how long she'd been in their captivity. Some days she was fully sedated, other days they needed her lucid. Sometimes she would think they got a sadistic kick out of hearing her screams. Probes, needles, scans, grafts, transfusions; she felt it even after sedation.

Begging was beneath her. But she found herself screaming to the universe to end this. End them. Begging it also, to give them what they want; _to just make it stop_!

She remembers vividly the day she felt it. The flutter of life spring to existence. She remembered a brief moment of hope that all the pain would end. She hoped it would save her from the torture. But that hope squashed under ominous boots as the miscreants encircled her, their routine checkup turned into a morbid celebration- the experiment only just beginning.

She thought time had disappeared for her; a small blessing. No windows or clocks, when she was even lucid enough to notice.... But now she had a growing belly that tallied the days. Kept time a reality. A marker, a promise of her impending end. She was its carrier, not its mother. This child they had created. This child they forced into her. This child that she hated more than she hated them. And when it began its life, hers would become obsolete.

That hate came anew, just then. Their needle scraped inside her, an electrical pang upon her womb, and radiating throughout her limbs. Pain. Unspeakable pain.

But then there was a warmth. Unimaginable warmth. She wasn't numb to the pain, but it was ignorable. A shadow to the light she felt emanating from within her.

Her eyes opened. The lights above suddenly dimmed, compared to the light that shone in the recesses of her mind. It swirled around her synapses and shorted the pain receptors. She could almost have seen the nerves exhale their stress and accept the peace. But her eyes saw the surgical lights, and her skin felt the metal stirrups. She felt the needle. But she felt the warmth most.

Her eyes found her swollen belly. And a toxic mix of wonder and hatred, and wonder again, overwhelmed her. The little _thing_ is comforting her. It had the gall to come into existence, be the very cause her nerves were chronically ablaze, _and now it was comforting her_?! This sweet, monstrous thing. The irony snapped her sanity in half.

The worst part, were the words. No, not words exactly. More like emotions that manifested themselves into a context; an understanding. They seemed to have whispered to her.

_Everything will be fine. We'll be okay._

She had begun to cry. The sweetness. The innocence. The purity. Created by evil, and it was the purest being to exist. More so than she. How could she hate it, then?

A sharp thrust of another probe, and the moment is torn. Her rationale returned.

"It's a girl." The violator sneers. Triumphant, "if her existence alone is proof enough, she will indeed prove to be fruitful. In the Force, and with creating more of her kind."

Her hands felt a sudden urge to curl protectively over the mound. _A girl_.

She was pregnant with a girl.... How was she going to hate her now?

 

 

 

_No._

Why had he revealed himself?

Kylo had been meditating, cultivating all of his rage and pain and sorrow into an elixir, a brew of unparalleled darkness. He always failed to make it completely black, however. All of the Light within him lifted the darkness writhing inside and brought a warm redness to it. An unmistakable maroon, shifting within his limbs and seeping from his pores into his aura. A fact that he hated; as did Snoke.

While he focused on purging the darkness of Light, he felt an instant release in the Force from a great distance away, like a gust of wind whipping behind him; urging him forward. So he followed.

There had been a wall, where he had found himself. Kylo could feel the soft, yet jagged edges of a crumbled barrier. The conscience beyond the breaking point emitted a warmth that he desperately wished he didn't like so much. As he began to fasten to the edges of this mind, Kylo felt an instinctual push full of Force trying to him out. Unfortunately, he was curious-- and patient.

To get a feel for whom this mind belonged to, he began to touch the barrier gently, like a mother would soothe a scared child. Faux reassurance that everything would be okay.

It was then that he saw it. The light. Soft and strong and silver, but not cold. No-- it was a searing heat that vibrated against his every nerve. Bliss rippled through him.

Kylo couldn't help but touch the curiosity before him; the solace of peace for his many years of tortured contradiction. That's what this light was. An anchor. A warmth to tether him to this single spot. A cog suddenly snapped into place.

He felt the words then.

_‘Who are you?’_

It was almost as if she were speaking in his ear. Kylo ripped away, the warmth suddenly a branding rod upon his curious mind. He clutched at his head.

Kylo tried to tell himself the pain was her intent, that she had baited him.

But his Force knows better; he had denied the connection, tried to sever it.

All he could think about was telling her who he was. To get that one word out of her. To hear someone, not from his past, whisper his identity-- no, that was his old self-- the one that he couldn’t want. He needed to keep a distance.

Later, after tireless hours of training and after he had food brought to his room, Kylo felt another pull. A door opening, and the warmth stepping curiously, ignorantly, around his mind.

 _Rey_. He nearly spoke out loud, almost reverently; her power in the Force growing. But he knew she'd repel from him if he answered. She was searching for a memory, and he shuddered with terror that it was his own.

_I will finish what you started._

The terror slowly turned into a disdainful pride; a jealousy of sorts, at her strength in the Force. She would find him out eventually. He might as well break it gently to her, for her sake; definitely ignoring his own selfish wants.

He couldn't say Kylo Ren. The thought of her spurning him was too dangerous. He very well couldn't say Ben.  
No.

But he knew without a doubt that he had to answer; their bond strained every millisecond he didn't respond.

It is me, he sends her gently, dipping his conscience into the warm liquid of her fascinating mind.

He felt her shock as if it were his own, and a rippled image of his face stood before her. Memories of her dreams flashed indescribably fast before his eyes, and he felt the morbid interest and fascination she held for him. But the most prominent emotion roiling in her was hate. It singed the fringes of his mind, and he pulled away then, taking some of that passion with him.

He had heard her spit out his name, reminding him of the Darkness he was: _Kylo Ren_.

A piece in his chest snapped a little, and he felt disjointed.

It isn’t until now, as the ache dulls, does he have an epiphany. She liked his face. Her memories indicated as much. There was, undeniably, a hint of infatuation. For the first time in all his years, he allows himself to hope. Maybe he should use this to his advantage.

Kylo can only hope, further, that he didn't allow his newfound connection to ruin him. Or that Snoke would use it against him.

 

\-----------

 

Rey severs the connection as much as she can. The reveal had been a hot iron rod jabbing at some soft organ just under her left rib. She likes to believe she still has a heart. But years of drilled practicality have numbed the otherwise vulnerable tissue.

She had felt his initial scorn. His indignant need to lash out in return. Hot and repugnant upon her subconscious.

She could almost hear his vocabulator. Envisioning his harshness. Never his voice. That soft, human voice. Always picturing his mask. Never that face with speckled moles, and the signature Solo grin.

A few days with Han Solo, and she seemed to know him. And then she'd seen him almost uncannily before her, in the flesh of his kin. But everything good about that elder man, had been stomped and mutilated in the younger face of his son… The indignant, malicious monster that he is.

_It is me._

She scoffs to herself. Curls into her mat, eyes closed. Desperate for sleep. Had he expected a warm welcome??

She tries to center herself, find some modicum of sleep. The ocean all around her. She had fantasized of this place; this is her place of sanctuary.

But sleep will not come. Where there once was warmth, reality has taken its place. Chill winds and light mists leave her shivering and void of comfort.

She can feel him again. Kylo. He is testing her minds edges, imploring her to open the door. To drop her defenses. She can feel him beseeching upon her. Why is he so hot and cold? Will it be this way always?

There is never words, but rather flitting understandings rippling through their connection. Emotions whispering context within themselves. Ambiguous and vague, though potent and direct in intent.

He feels genuine. Void of malice or deceit. But she's no fool.. It takes all of her force from letting the light in her reach out for that sweet dark warmth. Enticing, and she is enraged.

Like a sharp knife cutting an herb, she slams another reinforcement of Force upon his efforts.

Wounded, he shrivels away. The faint brushes of his force halt. But she can feel him linger. Distant. Echoes of his Force signature a short distance away. Stalking her light. Waiting for a crack in her armor. Unfortunately for him, she's never given in. Unfortunately for her, he's never given up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> future chapter will be longer... I kinda need to prime everything first for the rest of the story. Lemme know if you'd like me to clarify anything or add more detail in the chapters thus far! im game:) and thank you guys for reading!! seriously. Im only really posting to get my headcanon out!


	4. Telepathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's preconceived notions of black and white are tested, and her tether to Kylo breaches the point of no return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the darker tones of this fic begin in this chapter... I give warning now that there is content of verbal abuse and torture... so i beg pardon for any triggers that may be offended! <33

"Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren.... Never had I suspected you to disappoint most. Hux for certain.... It is an inevitability, still... But you, my strongest pupil. Have become weak."

Kylo lays a crumpled mess on the floor. The archaic stitches upon his face freshly torn, and bleeding upon the duracrete of the massive chamber. Snoke is no holo. In the flesh he is more forbidding, and his power is unbridled in rage. Air seems to choke from Kylo's lungs in short stunted gasps. Snoke forcing the blood in and out of his lungs. Healing him, and then the torture begins again; asphyxiation a sweet mercy to broken limbs and twisted innards.

The hurt subsides, and Kylo understands it's his turn to respond; if said unwisely the pain would be unspeakable.

"Yes, master. I did as you bid. I killed my father. But I am weak, forgive me."

He struggles to stand. His right hand clutches his breast. Sweat and blood dripping from his chin. His breath labors with repressed sobs.

"Forgiveness? I'd as soon as dine on the raw flesh of a womp rat, than acquiesce to forgive such driveling disappointment. However, you shall serve penance."

Kylo cannot help the anger that surges through him. Never has he hated anything so much in his life. Though he cannot discern whether the hate is for the words, his master speaking them, or for himself and the waste of life he's sacrificed.

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

"I sense your hatred; the confusion. I know the problem. You have become unbalanced… Ironically you were my symbol for balance... Pray, tell me what you think has crippled your resolve."

Snoke leaves no room for answer. Ripping through the bone and marrow of Kylo’s skull to retrieve memories of the girl. Pulling them forth to be played like holo’s in the back of his mind's eye. The master's thinly veiled disdain coating the images in red and with tastes of copper.

Mercifully, Snoke’s violating probing finds nothing of he and the scavenger’s connection. The many days in which Kylo reserves a bit of his Force to monitor her progress. Never seeing where she is, but feeling her strength grow… Nor does Snoke find the memories the nights since the connection was born, in which Kylo has spent sitting and waiting; watching Rey’s peaceful Light. Sometimes using the ambiance lull him to sleep. He could almost feel her Light’s warmth now. The heat currently increasing tenfold.

Kylo suddenly realizes Snoke is setting his nerves ablaze. Everything around him gains a reddish hue. Blood rushes to his eyes, as his aura is manipulated to singe his skin. He bites his lip to keep from screaming. Blood trickles from his mouth; mixing effortlessly with the steady stream flowing, too, from the gaping slash run from jaw to diagonal brow.

"You're weak. And why? You fool, you utterly shriveled child… The girl will not be a weakness. So help me, if I have to break your will, to make you see the depths of darkness to be reached, I will.”

He punctuates his point with a sudden jerk of the Force to spear Kylo in the spine. The agonized wail that escapes his mouth, an excusable show of defeat.

“She will no longer be an Achilles’ heel, my apprentice. She will be a distant memory that will remonstrate the deepest hatred in you. She will be your darkness.... Until then, your compassion disgusts me. Your need to commune with a likewise creature distasteful to my cause..... You will know darkness, my boy."

And the blaze sets anew. Screams. Blood-curdling, bone-shattering, spirit-crippling screams.

Minutes, hours, days. He's not sure. But he is sure of one thing. When the darkness of unconsciousness claims him, he swears he believes in the Light.

 

 

He is silent. Eerily so. Has been for several days. His presence no longer vibrating against the ridges of her mind, her Force void of irritation.

No coercion. No pleading. No stoic observation. No expectation.

Nothing... And this is not good. Not for her anyway. It grates upon her nerves, waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop.

She has yet to tell Master Luke of their bond. Since Ren's pitiful reveal, he has been a constant. A reliable nuisance of a fixture in her consciousness; during her training, meditation, her evenings. And Rey finds a morbid comfort in that.

He hasn't been vile, yet. He hasn't been aggressive (she wouldn't even really hear him if he had). Only peeking through every (albeit rare) weak moment her Force slips; in dreams or distractedly in sparring. She can still feel his ever-present aura of slight aggravation. Even so, he has been silent, and phantom-like. And having learned his lesson the first few times, he always steps out on his own before she can slam the door shut.

This steals her breath away.

All his actions thus far, or lack thereof, are a stark contrast to the bellowing rib-pounding monster she had brief interactions with on _Starkiller_. The mind-invading and personal-space incompetent man that she'd come to hate. A pathological sociopathic murderer.

No matter what she had known, what she's felt so far through-- whatever this is- is anything but maniacal.

He seems dark, but calculated. Purposeful, and observant; content to be so. And irritated that he is as clueless about this bond as she. She can tell he hates inferiority; much like herself.

A laugh almost bubbles from Rey's chest at the irony. She has something in common with someone who killed his own father...

Her eyes peek open. Her body shiny with a layer of sweat. She and Master Luke are now sitting, supposed to be meditating, their sparring match a triumph. And he had wished to center himself.

She still gets ripples of resentment from Luke. She had thought it was jealousy, but there is a distance to it, and with a particular juicy tang, like copper soaking on the tongue.

She feels-- no, she knows, that Luke is keeping something from her. But he had told her that if it was necessary, she would know. She trusts his word.

Usually when she'd attempt meditating, honing her own Light and her Force into the perfect blend, she would be distracted by the feeling of eyes boring into her essence. Ironically, she is now distracted from Kylo Ren's absence.

What better use of meditation than to seek out another Force signature?

Luke had taught her once how, after she enquired upon why she could not feel him in the Force; at least not fully; not like she could with Kylo though she made no mention of her pest.

"Oh, that's because I hide it; mute it," he confesses, like he'd just said that air is for breathing or the sun is there for light.

"How?" His eyes darted up as he realized the importance of this concept and how strange it must be for her.

"First, we teach you how to recognize the Force and its echo in all things."

So, now, she reaches out. Does what she remembers of her instruction. Fixating on that fiery oxblood. That soothing darkness. Honing in on its individual vibration; his essence. And...

She feels a disturbing burn upon the back of her neck. Not unlike the feeling of someone’s eyes boring into her skin. Her own open to look about her. She’s in the quad, the turf broken up with sporadic tiles; once meant for a great hall of an architecturally masterful temple, she’s sure. The sky above her just as blue and stormy as before. The sun beaming defiantly, against the climate’s incessant need to snuff it out. Everything is virtually the same, but the world seems tipped on its axis. Rocking and vibrating in a hazy way. The fringes of her vision, humming in static energy. A shadow skims just on the edge of her mind.

This is a Force dream; the only indication besides the narcotic-like hysteria, is the fact that Luke is suddenly gone. She cannot feel his faint hum of Force anymore. Not in this place. His hut dark inside and void of palpable kinetic energy; not even light from a fire. She stands to inspect the hut. Perhaps this was all a test in the Force.

As she nears the shelter, she begins to notice details. The sludge worn into the soil from their consistent trek into the home, is not there. The desk adjacent the mat, is empty and dust-ridden. No- this was not her island- this was something different. Perhaps another time before or after her present. She begins to back out of the vacant home.

She feels a flicker of energy, again; the shadow. It is sporadic as it jumps to many points; a glitch in the air surrounding her. Her eyes follow the figure before her, just off into the distance and then to her right, further away, and then forward. Seemingly random, but she can feel its vibration strengthen. It is getting closer.

Suddenly the shimmering figure begins to solidify. Or, rather, her mind finally registers who it is, why she hadn’t deciphered it sooner. _Kylo Ren_.

She sees two of him. Walking the same path, with the same gait. One of him, was the Lord Kylo of the Knights of Ren; arrogant and malignant, and donning a suffocating ensemble of black. The other him, was a version that terrifies her more. He wears softer robes. Loose and airy; breathable. Tans, and beiges, and lighter boots. He was smiling. This was Ben Solo. Her Force nearly screamed at her to take note. But she fears what she’ll learn if she continues to watch him approach her. He can’t be both. He can’t be a dream and a nightmare. Oh- but was he!

Both versions of him flicker in and out, like the toy her mother made when she was young. I bird drawn on one side of the token, a cage on the other, and two strings on each end. Her mother would roll the strings between forefinger and thumb, and the cage and bird suddenly existed as one. But trivial illusions meant for children are of no importance… There is now an unorthodox apparition presenting itself to her in the Force.

He reaches for her and she turns away abruptly, she covers her eyes. _This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t re—_ she feels his hand find her shoulder. Her arm flings away from her, detaching his, and her eyes open themselves. And she nearly screams.

The pain ripples into her Force barrier. It is nauseating and vile. Like acid spilling over every nerve, then with heat applied to it.

She can feel skin digging into the ground, the fabric of robes itchy and gnawing into skin, as he tries to bury himself into the duracrete of the dark room he is in.

She realizes with a sudden pang that she can see him. Feel him. Hear him. His inhuman screams. Wails of a dying Wampa. A shudder washes over her body, pinning itself into the pit of her stomach.

This fearsome monster is laying before her in the most contorted heap of agony, and she is confused. She should want this. She should feel victorious that he feels this much evil ripping him apart. But as the bond between them has suddenly opened with enough clarity, so does her mind. She doesn't want this, can never want this for anyone, and he's her worst enemy.

The pain is washing over her again and she crumples. He is either trying to keep some of it from her, or the Force itself is protecting her, but she otherwise gains enough control of her body to crawl over to him.

She reaches for him, only to stop and yelp. Her hand is glowing. She looks about her body, and her entirety is an iridescent silver. Shimmering, and cool in tone; like a blade of ancient warriors, but warmth vibrates from her.

_Rey..._

His voice in her head shakes her from her stupor; it’s desperate and pleading. And she reaches again. Called to his twisted body.

"That girl is not your friend," a fierce growl shakes through the room, the contempt, the hatred shuddering the atoms in the air and 'crete and walls.

Standing to look around, she sees his hell. Black. Black everywhere. Not unlike her interrogation room, but this place was devoid of life. No electrical humming, no doors lying in wait to open. Only black.

Black that is solid until it meets a pool of robes that collects on the floor. Robes that urge her eyes to travel up, her neck craning painfully, to look at a massive beast before her. Black that tapers about crinkled and aged skin. Pale and deformed is this thing. And a fearsome, sickly sneer paints this face, the only indication this corpse-like creature is alive.

"She is nothing Kylo Ren. You are nothing, and you make yourself weak allowing Light to govern your rationale. Compassion overrules your desire and passion. _Let... Her... Go_."

The quake shudders through everything again, lancing spears into her corneas and nerves. Coughing out her pain, blood coming up with.

And Ren is screaming maniacally now, his eyes wide and fearful. But they are only looking at her. His screams turn to rage.

_Stop it!_

She screams this like a mantra, uses the pain as a motivator to grab hold of her enemy and will her voice towards the beast.

_No!_

Kylo's voice hollers at her. His desperation suddenly painfully clear. His pleading suddenly obvious. He had been warning her. Begging her to go.

Rey’s eyes cannot mistake the peril she was now in. Kylo's tears flow shamelessly. And his eyes look beyond her. To the beast. Supreme Leader Snoke. The beast is smiling in confused wonder, suddenly seeing her for the first time. But she cannot mistake his look of knowing.

_Girl... I see pain is no stranger to you- that darkness finds itself home within you. Ever wonder why?_

_I am nothing like you!_

Snoke slithers his way to look her in the eye. His decayed flesh almost screaming in relief at having an expression. But not elated screams, the dreadful kind; not unlike Kylo's behind her.

"Don't be so sure of that…"

 

 

 

_Flashes begin to dance across her vision. Electrical and erratic. She can feel Kylo with her, seeing it as she sees it. She can feel his fingers grasping hers (when had he grabbed her hand?)… But this Force vision is meant for her._

_Muffled screams of a woman, just beyond the lightning. The vibration of her screeching resonates in the dark, wet space around her. Rey feels suspended in dark warm and thick water._

How? When? Why? What is the lightning??

_Streams of questions flit through her brain. Then the emotions flood into her conscious._

Fear. Pain. More fear. Hatred. Agony. Loathing.

_Some sensations are hers, others are the woman's. And Rey is afraid all over again._

_The lightning continues, and understanding puts everything into context._

_She is the womb. She's in her mother’s womb. And her mother is pain. And the lightning isn't lightning at all, it's an electrical probe._

_She can feel her fetus-self cowering, wrapping itself in the Force. Wrapping itself with another bond. Something separate from the umbilical tether. Curious, Rey follows that bond in the memory, as her fetus self does._

_And on the other side she feels another's fear. They too are innocent and small, with wild dark curls and deep brown eyes; big ears. Too big. This little person is curling into their self. Crying. Like she is. Tears that stain a pillow._

_The pillow suddenly has light shone upon it and a shadow growing before a man comes into her 'sight'._

_"Ben-- Ben; wake up," Rey sees now, hears even, that this man is Luke. Her fetus self is apprehensive._

_"Uncle Luke?" The boy, he's confused and relieved. He's shoots up and grips for his life to the younger Luke Skywalker. The boy still feels her pain, still shaking as her body shakes; the tether unwavering._

_"It hurts-- it's dark but warm, there's lightning; and it hurts," his sobs ruffle Luke's robes, and Luke's face is pained to see his nephew in such despair. Her fetus self observes the man holding this child, soothing him, and it is content. Yet the babe clings to the feel of this embrace like a lifeline. Rey, her present self, observes Luke close his eyes; retreating into meditation._

_The Force shifts then. He's assessing the damage. Ben. The depth of Ben's nightmare. Searching for the Darkside. Searching for the other end of this morbid tether he has found. He finds the pain. His eyes open._

_"Ben, it's time to begin your training for today," and Luke palms either side of Ben's face. Closes his eyes again, and suddenly Luke is speaking into Ben's Force. Urging him to feel peace and let it spread through into his 'dreams'; the boy too young to understand that another being lay on the other side, and Ben did it._

_Her fetus-self encouraged him; letting the warmth seep into her. Bubbling like a brook, her tight fetus form unfurling in the womb and she began to glow. And as it came to completion in every cell that has yet to develop her gestating self, Rey feels her littleness compel this warmth upon the wailing woman just beyond crackling of electricity singing bits of the uterine wall._

_The electrical probe doesn't desist, but the hatred and resentment definitely feels as if a bit of the resolve began to crack._

 

 

And with a sudden slam, her conscious is back in her glowing self before a crumpled Kylo Ren. He is silent now. Too silent, and her mind becomes a frenzy. Her body no longer feels warm; a cool shiver running down her spine.

_I'm nothing like you._

The words are hollow-sounding, dejected. Is Kylo truly gone? But as his chest rises and falls, her eyes turn again to Snoke. The defiance clear.

_You didn't prove anything to me; I was innocent._

Snoke scoffs. _Innocent you may have been. But you forget the purpose of our little venture. How you were created, and how your dear master knew._

She remembers then. Luke had not been fazed to see her little self at the end of the tether. He too seemed defeated and frightened. Afraid of her.

Then, there is a laughing that only adds to her horror. It starts soft and grows. Grows to a maniacal howling. Deep and raw. Raging.

She turns to look upon Kylo. His eyes burn. His mouth is set into a demented grin, that laugh splitting it.

She reaches again, he's hurting, and she's calling his name. Instinctual.

_Ben..._

Desperate and pleading; just as he had been.

And he lunges for her, his fingers like claws. Intent on destroying her windpipe. Then- he's gone.

And she's thrown again, back in her own body. Her own normal human form, sitting on a mat in the Jedi temple’s quad, and alone. It is dark, but nearly dawn. Fury raging within her.

The last thought she has before exhaustion claims her is not her own.

_I'm coming for you, scavenger. And it will be your end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, and lemme know where i lacked in clarification... the scene is meant to be chaotic bit i'm above admitting some details leave for room for improvement:)) i also want to apologize for any triggers i may have set. If you like the fic too, it's always nice to hear kind words! heh


	5. Fractured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mother finds hope, in dark places.
> 
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> Trigger Warnings Apply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHHAAATTT a two chapter update?! Yup. hehe
> 
> For those of you confused about the timeline, the mother's story will jump back 'n forth through flashbacks, for parallel reasons. But in this chapter Rey is on Jakku and is about 11 years old. And Kylo is about 19/20. We won't see their characters cross paths in any of the flashbacks, but it gives you an estimate for where the plot may go for Luke and the Mother, and where it comes to fruition. 
> 
> Also I'd like to point out a pretty cool coincidence. There was a BTS spoiler released about a week ago in which Rey has pretty emotional scene with Luke and some things go down.... read the chapter and you'll get why I'm freaking out a bit... I wrote this a month ago:))))))) EEP! 
> 
> Finally: I do not own any of these charaacters.

Reyána stepped off the ship's hatch, the dock bustled with attendants who secured the anchor.

The sight before her was one to behold. Familiar and invigorating; from a life stolen from her. A life she'd since chosen to leave behind.

High cityscapes that dipped and soared with a faint hint of sun, and its light that melted into dark caverns of underworlds and the plethora of life forms that lived there. Her eyes narrowed and scoped the shadows. Not actually expecting, but searching.

_Coruscant._

The sound of speeders and ships whirring by, thrummed within her, and she knew she'd find what she had come for.

"Anyone else, madam?" A service droid asked, red with worn metal, moving with stinted ticks of its formerly fluid joints.

"No- only myself to report; though I am retrieving live cargo. There will be a man leaving with me; non-citizen."

"May I enquire upon your business?"

"Bounty; illegal resident wanted by the Order."

The droid noted the data onto a holopad, and simply hummed.

"Very well, madam. Well wishes for your endeavor."

She brushes past the droid without a second's hesitation. Its stutter of contempt brought an amused smirk to her lips. Droids, and there incessant programming for politeness...

The old bat told her to look in the underbelly of the city. Somewhere near the old senate building. A relic of freedom for some, and a giant pillar of duracrete and excess for others.

Politics. She had once felt the passion of choosing a side. Of choosing right from wrong, but the past six years have taught her there is more gray, than there can be black and white.

The senate building, one she had fought to defend a lifetime ago, has turned under military occupation. Yet again... Same black suits marching in uniformed squads. Stormtroopers marching adjacent them as shiny juxtapositions to the dark implications of their presence. Overhead, proudly displayed, is even a similar spoked emblem marked high on a banner; poor imitations of the Galactic Empire.

Their newest head-quarters laid within this giant artifice, and so do millions upon millions of old records. Manuscripts from ancient civilizations and an unspeakable database of holopads, and even some holocrons.

She's surprised he would hide so close to those who are hunting him. Smart. This makes her wary. A man so confident to hide near the enemy, is a man dangerous enough to stay hidden. By any means necessary. She will not underestimate him.

A shuttle transported her to the darkened streets of Coruscant's underworld. Telía is this sector's name, she reads, passing from the barge under an impressive metal arc; the name melded into its facade. Under the new name is a sculpted depiction of the old senate. From before the Clone Wars. Men and women standing in clouds with peaceful and passionate expressions alike. She scoffs.

Men and women. In clouds. As dreamlike as they were dreamers. War is an inevitable factor of life. A reset button for those idiotic enough to think perfection is actually a freedom. Freedom always comes with a cost. Life has taught her that much.

An Arkanian female brushed up against her, and stumbled a bit. Her eyes met with the woman's, just as she wrapped a forceful hand around her wrist.

"Unless you were aiming for my thigh, or you want a beam to your head, I'd suggest you get your hand off my holster," she looked down to see her half drawn pistol, and back up to the frightened young woman. Reyána realized then exactly how young the girl was, perhaps only three years older or so than Rey was now, but much older in looks. Her mature clothing not quite helping the cause. She gripped harder.

The Arkanian girl yelped, "I'm sorry, I have to make my quota today or my master will punish me."

A sneer and growl whipped a vicious twitch upon her brow. Long dashes and speckles of scars on the girl's arms tell all.

"The pistol is useless. Made from scrap metal. Here," she grabs some coin and hands it to the girl. She could make without a meal or two.

The girl released her hold of the pistol long ago, but Reyána's grip held her put. The Arkanian hesitated to accept the coin. Tears in her eyes.

"We ladies have to look out for each other," she whispered in her ear.

Finally letting go, Reyána pushed past the tearful girl. Silently reprimanding that weakness. That girl really ought to stiffen her spine.

She only made it a few paces.

"Girl," the Arkanian spun around, eyes wide, fearful she's changed her mind.

"Where's your master?" She saw confusion warp her fear, and then the fear returned.

Reyána walked back to the girl, now trembling, settling a reassuring hand upon her little toned shoulder, "where's your master?"

"Follow me."

And follow she did.

 

Metal allies, littered with interspecies' venders. Their fabrics and knick-knacks and goods displayed haphazardly on their tables, their hands waved to her as she passed. Their eyes slamming the Arkanian girl, and disdain marred their features.

Finally reaching a break in the alley down a smaller corridor, set between two skyscrapers, they stepped slowly to the lone door at the end. A single light filling the end of the pathway, and Reyána heard a latch open and close before she saw the door open, and a tall brute of an alien stepped out.

His deep growl made her hand hover instinctively over her holster.

"Coin?" He spoke, his octave lower than most, garbled by mucous upon his lips. He stank.

The girl procured the coin from her pocket and bequeathed it upon the sickly giant. His giant hand swallowing and molesting her smaller one. A grin, if the expression twisting on his face could be considered as such, spread across the green-tan flesh. His eyes lingered over Reyána. Her hand fastened onto her gun. His eyes followed.

"You will leave the gun with me."

No questions. She was not any less wary. But she gave up the pistol nonetheless. With a grin as genuine as a rathtar's.

"This way," she flinched away from a particularly nasty bubble growing from his snout.

"Say it, don't spray it," she snipped. And he shoved her by her rear into the foyer. His hand making sure to squeeze.

"Recruit?"

The girl's eyes widened and her head shook violently; nervous, "Customer."

He huffed, "Come, this way."

And they walked into a dimly lit lounge. Lush sofas and love-seats placed randomly about the room. Men and women alike spread upon the luxury, and their hands touched and their mouths moaned. She felt bile that had risen into her throat. Still she followed; her knuckles white from the vicious fists she held at her sides.

They reached the back past the kitchen and the brute opened a door to an equally obscene display. The master.

He was a familiar species. A Gotal. His twin peaks atop his head prominent from aging. Upon his lap is a naked woman, behind him, an equally exposed male. His hands fondling each is quick procession. And he did not end his ministrations, upon their entrance into the room. With his dialect, she assumes he orders them to serve each other. Not with much enthusiasm did they follow their command.

"Yes?" He asks lazily; bored.

"I wish to employ your Arkanian."

His interest piqued. He leans forward past the woman gyrating on his groin. She is invisible to him now.

"If you both join me now, you can play for free."

She scoffs, “Don’t play ignorant, you know you disgust me."

He chuckled despite his pensive glare, “Yes, your disdain is written plainly on your face; name your business then."

With his eyes still upon hers he takes to lavish upon the woman's chest with tongue and teeth. Reyána won't give in, her stare more piercing.

"I need a guide. I was born here, but under this new reign, it seems, much has changed. The Arkanian. I wish for her to be that guide."

With a pop he detaches himself, spit stringing onto his chin.

"Hmm, no," he taps his chin with a claw and the man comes to lick of his slobber.

"How cute; you think I've come to negotiate," with a quick hand she draws a blade hidden behind, under her vest. A split second later, it's lodged into the neck of the brute, slicing in an even line until mucous and green ooze fall from his jugular.

Unsheathing it quickly and a strong pivot if the wrist, she then jettisoned the blade where it drives home into the Gotal's shoulder. The blade long enough to pin him to the sofa he was lounged upon. The woman and man had since been thrown off in his scramble, and now cowered on the floor. Covering themselves.

Without breaking eye contact she walked the short yard to his disgusting form, and raised the heel of her boot to the hilt, pushed it further, slowly; eliciting a pained hiss from the filth.

"Leave," the man and woman obey her request. Happy to escape.

"Arkanian, what's is this pissant's name?"

His eyes glared into the girl behind her, but Reyána gripped his jaw with whitened knuckles. He would not look upon that girl again.

The Arkanian girl shakily replies, "Agues."

Reyána laughs. _Fitting_.

"Do you know what my kind do to _sickness_? To scum and filth?"

His eyes seem unaffected, but her fingers felt the twitch in his jaw.

"We cut it out, we burn it out, and we eradicate it from existence; or die trying. I fought with men like you. Your people would be shamed."

He lurched forward, to bite, but yelled instead. The blade slicing an arterial vessel. She knew from the spew that scattered the sofa.

"My people were foolish! Fighting a war they had no way of winning! And my father's family died for it. I will survive. I will be great!"

"No- you won't."

She watches acceptance of what would come next flit through his eyes, and then they flickered between her own- awed.

"I couldn't sense you…"

Her eyes crinkle in confusion. He couldn't sense her? What does that even- No matter. The conversation was over.

Pulling the blade from his alien flesh, she dragged it up to slash his neck and jaw open. And she watched him bleed out. He watched her, as his life left his eyes.

Once the essence of him sighed out with his lungs' finale exhale, she wiped off the blade with the silky material of his shirt.

She straightened then, rolling her shoulders, and cracked her neck. When she turned the Arkanian was crumpled. Crawling toward her master. Reyána snapped.

"Girl, so help me-" and rounded behind the girl, a foot set on either side of her prone form. Reyána's hand grabbed a fistful of her snow-white hair and pointed the girl's face towards the bloody heap.

"That man was not your home. He was not your freedom. You will mourn him just the same, but he has violated you in every way. The day you stop hating me, is the day you begin hating him. He has broken you to tears, when you should revel in triumph; you are free now. And the fact you feel so grieved is a testament of how sick and sadistic he was to make you snivel at his feet. That piece of slime is _nothing_ to you."

With a hiss of irritation she threw the girls lazy head away. The Arkanian still cried.

"I don't know what else to do. I have no one."

"You'll survive. If you will it. But that crying-- did you know your people are a proud people? Some of the most intelligent species in the Galaxy. It's in your nature. Telling by your white eyes and hair, you were likely taken from a prominent family... Why do you think I wished to employ you?"

"Do you wish to ransom me?"

Reyána chuckled, and knelt before the girl, “what is your name, Arkanian?"

"Vila-hik," her eyes shot over to the corpse, breathed closed her eyes, “he truly was a monster- but I loved him."

Reyána shook her head, “You’ll regret those words the day you realize you've never known love. Not the way it is in actuality."

She remembered, then, small brown eyes, and a little laugh… then tears.

"Have you?" some sass arose in the girl's voice; good.

"No- and that's how I know."

Reyána stood, and took the opportunity to scrounge about the room. Finding a log book of guests and visitors. Fortuitously the sex-nest she currently sat in was on the rear side of the Senate building. Some of the men and women in the lounge had had their officer’s hats and Stormtrooper helmets set to the side. She was surprised this form of degradation was allowed in the ranks; uniformity almost an indoctrinated religion to the Order. In fact, she was certain it was.

Just so, the log may hold evidence of the man she sought out.

On their passing to Agues’ office, she had spotted a corridor of rooms and a staircase to more quarters above. Yet there was nothing familiar in the log. He had told her his name once. And she'd vowed never to forget the man who saved her.

"Vila-hik-- May I call you Vila?" she paused to see the reply. The girl simply nodded. She was still sat near the edge of the sofa.

"Vila, have you happened to see a man, soft in eyes; blue; and dressed in a hermit's robes?"

"Not here," Her mind was certain it was him.

"Is his name-- Luke?"

Vila stood slowly; apprehensive; her eyes slinking over Agues's dead form. All the confirmation she needed was the undeniable yes, whispered from the Arkanian's lips.

\------------------------------

The snow is setting in. Flurries from tempered sea storms flit about the air between to the two sparring. The green of the island still vibrant, and impossibly greener under the frost.

Rey huffs. The flakes melting on her cheeks. Droplets falling around her face, and mingling with a trickle of blood from the nick above her brow.

"You are moving your knees too much; its throwing off your form. Again."

Luke's fighting skills, to her chagrin, have not dulled in isolation. His arms swooping in neat, viscous arcs. His legs readily stoop, and lithe. She feels lucky to be alive, despite they only fight with branches of the i'iima trees that grow in the cliff-face of their island. Frustration grows in her, just thinking of the tedious climb and the cut palms she had endured gathering the staffs. An 'exercise' of the Force, Luke had said. If adversity in the smallest of ways could be tolerated, then the biggest shall be an even smaller feat.

Well- getting one's rear handed to them by an aged hermit, was not her idea of 'small feat'.

She swings her torso just so and her staff connects with him, she is only allowed a moment’s victory before he recovers and thwacks her exposed knee. She tumbles down.

"I see what you mean," she says dejected.

Luke is irritated. She has not missed this. Ever since her misguided Force journey into Kylo's mind, she has deflated.

She feels defeated. She can't place why, and this only depresses her more. It feels as if a bit of her heart and mind have been ripped away. The pain is there. The hollow ache ever present.

She's assured it's the revelation that she was created in a test-tube. That her mother felt hatred for her; a rightful hatred.

She's assured it has nothing to do with having seen Kylo's torture. Watching him try to crawl out of his own skin. Hearing his demented screams and laughter. Having felt the moment their warm tether became a spiked icicle, meant to strike her down. She is certain, that this all means nothing to her.

Kylo Ren is her enemy. He is coming for her, and he is going to end her.

Her energy to lift from the ground, buries itself further into her thoracic cavity.

_Rey..._

Her brows crinkle furiously. She heaves from the ground. She needs to perfect this form. Her life is literally dependent on this.

_His eyes; so scared and pained._

She strikes Luke hard. His eyes light with equal fury and triumph. He aims for her knees, she blocks it.

_His wailing; his body crumpled in her arms._

She swings above her head, and lunges with a downward swoop, Luke barely catches the blow. The sheer force pushes his staff close to his cheek. Had it been an actual saber he'd have a burn from mere proximity.

_His hand, grasping for her throat._

With the opposite end of her staff, she arcs down and up towards Luke. It strikes under the chin, and he flies back off his feet.

She sees red. Feels red. It crackles like fire in her veins, and some distant beast stirs greedily. A reptilian creature slithering into her Force, hungry for the flames. She burns it. It revels in the pain.

"Enough!" And suddenly the red is gone. Rey is hovering over Luke. Her staff raised for another strike. She drops it, and steps back, her feet on either side of his prone form.

Rey's eyes look about her, trying to find her bearings, she looks at her hands. They are alien to her now.

"Why?"

"You were about to strike me unconscious, you were possessed with hate, Rey-"

"No-- _why?_ "

Her eyes connect with his, the hazel irises speaking the thousand words she cannot bring herself to say. He hears every one of them, sees them in her flecks of gold and green and light browns. So similar to a face he once knew. And he knows regret more than he's known happiness, all of it slamming into his frown and stature before her observing eyes.

"You won't like the answer."

"Try me. I've been here for weeks. I've trained. You yourself have said I'm strong in the force. I need to know. And you are duty bound to tell me. I feel the resentment. Why? _Tell me_."

Her voice is pleading, tears are welling over the brim of each lid. The faint hint of anger licking at the edges of her words.

"You are not ready."

Again, she sees red.

"I'll show you whose ready," with that she splinters past the skin and bone of his cranium, wedges inside the gyrus tissue and slithers until she finds it. A flicker of a recognizable face. Her mother's....

 

_Luke sat opposite her mother. In a comfortable room. The tension of discomfort palpable. Luke's face is bruised._

_"You went to kill her."_

_Luke's shamed and defeated expression falls, eyes finding the carpeted floor most appealing. Thought perhaps it'd be his last sight._

_"Yes."_

_There are several beats. One even more unbelievably uncomfortable than the last, desperately quiet moments._

_"You should have gone through with it."_

_Luke’s eyes connected with her mother’s, then. They are ablaze, genuine in regret._

 

Rey throws herself out of the memory. Her rear slamming upon the dewy grass. Her eyes streaming angry tears.

"Rey," Luke is clutching his head and reaching toward her, beseeching upon her,"Go back-- finish the memory."

Rey scrambles to her feet again, away from the hand that brushes against her robe.

"Why? To see more of my mother's hate, to see your death-wish for a child you never knew... You-"

"No- there's more-"

"More that I wish to never to know. Years I waited! Years I hoped! She hated me... But I won't let you or her win… Why have you trained me? What do you want from me?"

Luke’s mouth gapes for a few moments, his face an all too revealing, apologetic, and he finally speaks, “The force is strong in my family… I have it, my sister has it… And now you- you have it. A power we’ll never know. And perhaps it is you who can achieve where my family has failed.”

He had wanted to kill her, and now he wishes to use her. Years… For years she had only wished to belong, to be wanted, and the one time she truly believed she found her place it is being ripped apart in front of her eyes. Something within her cracked.

"Rey..."

"No!"

Her war cry shatters through the air, blasting into everything around her. Rocks tumbling and cracking, blades of grass splicing. Luke had regained enough coherency to block it, but he wasn't quick enough. The Force wave flings him back several feet, rendering him unconscious.

It shakes her enough to remember herself. That she doesn't enjoy this. That she is scared for him, for herself- of herself.

She remembers Finn. His smile. The first genuine person to love her, even in the smallest of ways. He came back. He looked out for her. And all she needs is to feel his undeniable warmth soaking into her core, wrapping his arms around her; anchoring her to a single balanced spot.

Luke's breathing is even, and she sighs her relief into the frosty air. The exhale, a thick fog.

She could kill him. She won't. But she could. He's unconscious. He's unaware. Almost as if _he_ were a child who hadn't even been capable of coherent thought, yet… And it would be so easy to exterminate him.

She wills her staff to her hand. The only true belonging she brought with her; the rest were rudimentary clothes and toiletries; the _Falcon_ had plenty to spare.

She turned, her only destination being the piece of junk she's inherited. The only place she's ever felt at home. After the _Falcon_ , the sky's the limit.

 

The steps of the island are a longer trek down than up, ironically. R2 and Chewie meet her on the ramp, chortling and whistling warm hellos- having been camped in the Falcon since they arrived nearly five weeks ago- and her faint smile silences them. Chewie's tense nature, grows more so as her squared shoulders and set jaw drop to eye the floor beneath her moving feet. She's in the bridge before they know it. Priming the hyperspace and revving the engines.

Another gargled yelp alerts Rey to Chewie's presence in the cockpit.

 **Where are we going?** He asks in a gruff whine.

_Away from here... Far, far away. She thinks._

Turning to Chewie, she gives the epitome of pretense smiles, “Let’s go visit some friendly faces."

In the background the Falcon's system chirps a relay of coordinates. Her monotonous bleeping saying, **D'qar**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of my aliens will be from canon EU and are inspired from Wookiepedia. The more vaguely discripted one's are from m own imagination.  
> they will oc's until otherwise stated.


	6. Reflections Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finds that expectations don't meet reality. Kylo makes unexpeccted allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience, my lovelies! pardon the little recap at the beginning:)

ON D’QAR…

  
Finn is laying upon grass near the base of D’qar. Reeds of a nearby pool rustle contently in the wind. The stars shine purposefully. And a friend sleeps next to him. Finn is alone now, and relieved.

He ruminates on the weeks since he awoke from an induced coma. The scar burning with a phantom remembrance of the ill-fated duel. But the image of Kylo carrying Rey away on Takodana makes the phantom burn a welcome one. Finn imagines an alterate ending; flickering like a hologram in his mind’s eye. One in which, Kylo Ren lays with a blade buried in his breast. The monster’s once perpetually raging eyes are both begging for life and accepting of his end; like the eyes of his father Han.

Poe’s soft snoring interrupts his morbid thoughts. BB-8 whurring content and rebooting nest him. A smile easily tipping up the corners of his mouth. The man was older and more world weary, Finn knew it’s taken a toll. Curled almost like a tamed Nexu, Poe’s snores and it’s a kind of purr. A stark contrast to the commanding presence of the officer Finn sees every day. The jovial spirit in which Poe speaks to his peers. The furrowed way his brow crinkles in concentration… Poe is a constant presence in every station. Confident, yet kind. He is humble. But Finn knows distraction, when he sees it.

Twenty-three years of being raised and conditioned on Starkilller; he’s seen how people’s minds warp. After years of denied identity and self, his fellow ‘Troopers began to work instead of asking the questions they desperately needed answered. Who they were, why they needed to fight, why weren’t they allowed to be? Men and women alike starved of a name, history and choice. They symptomatically made themselves the drones they were expected to be.  
Finn never lost that inquisitive nature, he just learned to hide it well. Keeping it only thoughts. Sanitation was a mind-numbing duty set upon him. He knows his aptitude tests were undeniably commendable, but he was assigned with sanitation. And it was a blessing while it lasted. Hours upon hours of thinking. Teaching himself how to stiffen his expression this way, or say ‘yes sir/mam’ that way. To identify his self and remove it for the important moments.

Jakku. One mistake was all it took.

A crack rings out through the sky. Finn stands and inspects it, and his smirk from before grows into a full blown grin. Poe startles awake, when an aftershock cracks once again through the air.

“W-what’s going on?” Poe’s voice is only slightly sleepy. Finn chuckles, rests a hand reassuringly on Poe’s shoulder, and points to the sky.

Above them the Falcon breaks out of hyperspace, an unfortunate habit Rey has gleaned from Han, one that Finn hates. But he decides, in elation, that he won’t chide her for it.

“I think we have some visitors.”

 

 **I didn’t like it when Han did it and I still don’t like it when you do it** , Chewie chuffs. R2 beeps in agreement beside him. Rey rolls her eyes, but her fondness echoes in her small smile.

“Well, we didn’t blow up and we didn’t smash into the planet, or fly through it. I think that counts for something? I’d say it was impressive even,” She smarts.

 **Yes impressively stupid** , Chewie’s admonishment holds a hint of mirth behind it.

They hear the hurried footfalls on the stiff gravel of the landing. Rey turns quickly, and her arms twitch reflexively to raise her pistol. But as her eyes land on the boots that tear up loose pebbles, her feet fall into a steady rhythm of their own.

“Finn!” They crash into the other, grasping and breathing each other in. Rey pulls away when her muscles strain from holding so long.

“You left,” he says this with a smile.

“I did, I- I needed to learn a few things,” Her voice was stiff, she knew, but his head tipping to the side irked her. Couldn’t she keep anything hidden? She planned to tell him all, but making sure no one else caught on was imperative.

“But you- You’re awake! And I want to hear about you!”

**Don’t worry I’ll get the Falcon settled. Go play. Come on R2.**

Finn’s brow furrows at the furry giant, and Rey only huffs. That grumpy old rug. Though she has been shirking her duties on the Falcon. No matter- just a little bit longer…

“He’s not happy with me, is all,” She grabs Finn’s hand and pulls him to walk away, the same moment another scuffle of feet come running up behind them. Rey pivots defensively.

“Hey,” Poe’s dazzling smile shines even in the dusk of evening. He’s winded. She’s glad, he should be for sneaking up like that.

Finn walks over to him, their hands part, and she looks at her empty fingers. Her eyes look up to Poe, whose shoulder now has her warm friend’s palm patting it.

“He’s a bit old,” Finn chuckles and Poe shoves him off.

“I actually would have beat you here, Space Cadet, if I hadn’t needed to calm down the guard. The whole base was on the ready when their ship broke through Hyperspace. The General is, however, on her way.”

He was teasing, she knew, but her eyes were still boring onto that broad shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to startle anyone,” she finally looks to Poe, and figures a rueful grin wouldn’t hurt.

Poe chuckles, “Ah, We’re just glad you survived being so close.”

His kindness makes her knuckles crack.

Finn doesn’t miss much, and her white knuckles were not something he could. He pats Poe on the shoulder one more time, lifts his brows, and a nods towards the barracks. Poe catches on, and winks; he may be older but he’s still an idiot. Poe leaves all the same.

“Rey?” Finn gently brushes his fingers over her forearm, as her bicep twitches to pull away, but not before he clasps her fist with a gentler one of his own, “What’s wrong?”

She looks into his eyes again. Still caring, and still passionate, but determined- grounded. Proud. She lunges forward, hugging him again; fervently. Maybe those eyes won’t read so much into her own. Maybe he won’t see she hasn’t changed… her own lost eyes. The same lost little girl desperately hoping for nothing.

“It’s nothing, I’m just glad you’re better” She wants to say the word alive and she does, but in her physical way; holding tighter,”… I missed you.”

Finn’s breathing hitches in his throat, his hands slide to each of her shoulder blades, thumbs hooking under her arms, and gently pushes her away. He eyes her pout.

“Rey you’re scaring me, what happened?”

Flashes of memories spike her in her core. Luke, the dreams, the visions, Kylo Ren.

“I uh, it’s complica-“her voice is interrupted by a throat clearing. They to turn see a short woman standing next to them. Her posture straight and trained after many years of practiced authority. Rey feels her heart lurch.

“Leia,” Rey steps forward, inwardly feeing; masking her fear. They grasp each the other’s forearms. A shake of allies. Equals. She feels a burning in her stomach, and along with a restlessness in her legs.

“Rey,” Leia lifts a hand to Rey’s face. Years of knowing too much and tiresome duty have etched themselves into the woman’s skin at the corners. Talons imprinted into her smiling eyes; graceful and fearsome.

“How are things, yearling?”

Rey appreciates the quip. When Rey had officially met Leia, she felt like a child. Desperate and forlorn, but instantly comforted by this stranger; the mother she never had. It was only after days of shelter from this woman that she could leave D’qar, wide-eyed and full of wonder at her first steps. Now it’s almost as if nothing has changed with this General- almost. A simultaneous wave of terror and ease washes over Rey, the older woman is ignorant of it- or perhaps she knows… The force is strong in their family after all.

Leia’s eyes give her away. Their gentleness scrunches into confusion and apprehension, and her hand falls seamlessly from her cheek. If Rey wasn’t hypersensitive in this moment, she may have missed it.

“A story too boring to tell, I’m sure; nothing but carrying Luke on my back and sweating in rain storms,” Rey emits a pretense blush. Finn can’t know- not yet. And Leia, she has answers to give.

Both chuckle.

“Well, wild wampa, I think a few freaked pilots and cadets would like an explanation as to why they only got three hours of sleep,” Finn winks and Rey’s heart skips.

 

 

Rey is led to a new bunk, then. Finn and the General asking harmless inquiries. Leia offers her apologies for the last minute quarters. Well it’s actually a broom closet, with a cot. The barracks were full. The destruction of the Hosnian system had prompted a healthy resurgence of enlistments. New robes and new sheets, she stands in the middle of the space, calves pressed to the frame of the cot, and her folded arms nearly touch the adjacent wall.

She changes and settles on the thin mat, the ceiling she stares at now provides no escape- no clarity. She cries.

Fifteen years… She is nearing twenty. She is almost sure.

Fifteen years of waiting and hoping, and believing her mother would come back. That they would be a family again. And her mother had wished her dead. The feeling was mutual…

But she has a family now. A figment maybe, a reach for too far, far away. But she has a family. The only person who watched her taken, and came for her. The only person to look at her and see something worth fighting for. The only person to nearly die for her.

Yes, she and Finn. They could be a family.

A bleep sounds as her door slides open, and Rey sits up to greet the visitor.

“BB-8!”

She wipes hot tears from her cheeks, the little droid’s head cocks a bit to the side. His cheerful bleeping, curious.

“It’s nothing, BB. Just happy to see you all again,” She forces a smile.

He bleeps some more, purrs a little, and rocks his happy welcome.

“Thank you, BB. Yes- I’ll be here for a little while.”

_Bee-deep, blurrdeep, wurr-woo._

“Oh, I guess I should get some rest. You’re welcome to stay,” her hand smooths over the cream dome, and tweaks the antennae. The droid’s purrs as she centers her nerves.

_Bee-bee eeight, zeed deet burr-woop._

“Okay, of course, wish your master a nice rest for me.”

He cheerfully replies that he will, before he zooms off to Poe’s quarters.

Something like acid coats the inside of her mouth. And its dizzying effect forces her down onto the cot again. Sleep, maybe all she needs is sleep. It doesn’t truly come…

Dreams of gloved hands, and rain, and black whispers certainly do. _I’m coming for you…_

 

 

"Master Ren," Kylo stands calm in the Bridge of the _Finalizer_. His hands firm behind his back and feet set apart. He breathing is hard. There was a darkness awakening somewhere off in the Force. And for the first time in his existence he felt nothing for it. No war waging. No fear or elation tearing at his cells; at the nerves in his head.

He felt nothing. And his own darkness swirling in his vision, that would be otherwise debilitating, fuels his being. Sleeping and eating were no longer necessities, nor did they evade him. And drills felt fluid and sure; even his saber felt whole again for the first time since _Starkiller_.

The girl. Her name is vague and distant in his brain and the darkness scoffs at her importance; she's nothing. But he can tell it's her darkness brewing.

"Ahem- Master Ren?" Lieutenant Mitaka shakes nervously behind him.

"Yes?" Ren's voice clips. He turns to appear looking over his shoulder, moving makes others more at ease. He's been calmer. His fits of anxious rage have dissipated. And the force vibrates with the crew's morbid anticipation of his next.

"There is a transmission, a small craft requests to board, they insist they have business that may be of interest to you, personally. They also said to mention, they were from Jakku."

Kylo whirls swiftly. Mitaka gives out a small yelp. Under his hood, the scar crinkles with a satisfied sneer.

"Request granted. Bring them to the bridge immediately."

 

Kylo could smell the filth before he laid eyes on the creature. Could hear the retained fluids as he wobbled behind him. And Kylo upon seeing him, detested this creature. Faint echoes of memories grind upon his bones. Creaking in his marrow. His Darkness pushing them away. But hazy images of a little girl crying and pinned and biting, crack through. Not long before the dizzying shield of onyx washes over, cultivating his pained and frayed synapses into cold apathetic branches.

"I believe you told my officers you have important information to relay to me. You are?"

The blob-fish stands unfazed, too confident in his own nefarious composition. Not understanding that the itch he is currently scratching on the side of his neck is Ren's Force, inching its way into surface thoughts and memories.

"My name is Unkar Plutt, my companion here," a wiry little man, rodent in appearance, skin leathery and murky in color, stand beside Plutt, "Constable Zuvio of Jakku."

"Yes, I was informed of your origins; what exactly is pertinent in that regard?" Plutt bristles. His indignation radiates off him, his initial thoughts of importance and self-proclaimed menace nearly makes Ren bark with laughter. Nearly.

"We know the girl, Rey. There is wind of her warrant for arrest and… a reward for information,” Unkar sneers- greedy, “We have information.”

"Information you have yet to give, and in its stead you've given me drivel conversation convincing me you've come to waste my time with gossip," Kylo strides three whole steps and he's stood before the blob-fish. He finds a stinging grip with the Force, strangling its inner gills.

The blubbery mess gags and chokes, and blood begins to seep from the pores in his neck. Stubby digits claw at his throat.

Satisfied his warning has been comprehended, Kylo releases his death grip, "So will we discuss Jakku's climate, or do you have real intel to give?"

The helmeted rodent looks to the gasping criminal on the floor, his eyes both fearful and spiteful. But fear wins in the end as he steps forward. Kylo cocks his head to the side.

"Master Ren of the First Order, your reputation precedes you, and my fallible friend forgets to mention that the girl has stolen his ship. A Corellion Model-T Freighter, the-"

"-Millennium Falcon, yes. I know. What of it?"

"Unkar Plutt is a resourceful man, and upon acquiring the infamous Falcon, he made his own modifications..."

Unkar is beginning to regain composure, working his way to stand as they speak.

His squashed face pants but his words send thrills through Ren's nerves, "There is a tracking system."

"Hmmm," the anticipation of capturing the girl and draining the life from her, the elation of that possibility, must be squashed in this moment, "I would have thought a thug such as yourself avoided such damnable tech."

"Yes, but the program is reversible; with the right persuasion," Zuvio uses his staff as a conduit of confidence; his knuckles clutching the shaft and close to his chest. Defensively. Ren does chuckle.

The bridge crackles with red light as Ren's saber ignites. Everything is silent. Everything is frozen. The machines seem to make themselves quiet and smaller; just as the technicians that line the room. Willing themselves and their uniforms to blend seamlessly with the dim ambiance and monochromatic black mechanisms.

"Here's your reward, Plutt." The tip of the sword swings to the edge of his flat nose, his head nodding in affirmation, "You have fortuitously brought me pertinent information. For that I won't make you swallow my sword. I won't make you writhe with fire in your disgustingly vile throat. In return, in gratitude, you will reprogram the device and track the girl. Yes?"

The pissing glob, whimpers yes. Anger and contempt flooding his eyes, but Ren is satisfied. Perceiving from his emotions no rebellion; just indignation. He looks to the rat companion. He is less indignant, had expected this even, and gives a curt nod.

"Good- now. Let's begin. Lieutenant?"

Mitaka stands to attention, shaking. Perpetually shaking, "Yes, sir?"

"Tell General Hux someone has pissed on his bridge."

"Yes, sir," the Lieutenant breathes a sigh of relief.

 

 

“You look like an Acklay tossed you around a sand pit,” Finn likes to think he’s rather funny in inappropriate times.

“Thank you, Finn. I’m certain I’d feel better after a round with an Acklay than I do now,” Finn simply laughs off her quip. But he eyes her again just the same.

“Fitful sleep?” He moves over enough to give her room to sit beside him in the dining hall. It’s buzzing with laughter and conversation, littered with sounds of tableware scraping against ration trays. It provides a pleasant white noise for the darker thoughts echoing in her head from her dreams.

“You could say that,” She forks a protein mush into her mouth.

“So- you were gonna explain to me what happened? Last night?” He shifts his body to look her in the eye. Their knees touch. She wants to recoil a bit. She knows Finn is her family. But she has a nagging feeling in the back of her head. A voice. Dark and mangled and paranoid. He won’t understand. He’ll refuse you. Abandon you. Lie… Lie, lie, lie…

She shivers off the morbid little voice, this was Finn, “I-‘

“Finn, Rey- Good morning!”

Poe Dameron. Rey shrinks away from Finn as he smiles brightly. Finn watches Rey retreat from him. The knuckles are back, again.

“Poe, you do realize how early it is right? Why the hell are you always so chipper at daybreak?”

“So the crew get a dazzling view of my smile,” Poe winks.

Rey notices this, and she figures this is where Finn has acquired the habit. She would give herself time to gag on the thought if Finn’s hand wasn’t suddenly holding her own under the table.

She smiles reassuringly.

“Good morning, Poe,” Rey shoves a soft sweet roll into her mouth.

“So- Finn has told me a great deal about you, and we never got to properly speak before,” He looks geared for a challenging conversation. And challenging it was.

They speak of engines and motivators and converters. The best ways to bypass speed modulators and light speed compressors. And she smiles the entire time. But a little flicker of darkness licks the edges of her words. Something possessive and jealous, and scary burrowed behind her words and smiles. A creature breathing under her skin every time Finn laughs or touches Poe’s shoulder. A little beast that bares its teeth and screams mine!

“-if you like,” Poe looks hopeful, and she realizes she’s missed a bit of their conversation, her mind scrambles to catch up.

“Yeah, I’d love to take a look at your ship.”

She doesn’t mean it. But the grin that invades Finn’s concerned face, is enough to banish the little beast.

 

 

“You love him don’t you,” Poe is seated on the nose of the black X-wing, hands buried in wires and data ports. His eyes, however are locked onto hers. It’s not a question.

Rey wants to tell him firmly to mind his own business, but Poe’s own irises stand firm, challenging her to do so- because it is his business. He takes her silence as an invitation to speak again, “I see it. I also see your protectiveness- no- possessiveness. I’m not blind. And I thought I should let you know that He loves you, too. Anyone would. But I’ve come to hold Finn, pretty close to my own heart, and if you hurt him…”

“I don’t intend to.” She finishes melding two panels together. Her eyes return to his; resolute.

“Good.” He smiles, and chuckles. She’s shaken by this, weren’t they just in a standoff?

Poe hops down from the nose and runs a hand over his ship. Stops near her handiwork.

“You’re talented, kid. Someone taught you well, back on Jakku.”

“I taught myself… I had- there wasn’t anyone who taught me,” She staring at the enigma of a man. A man who goes from attempting to intimidate her, to complimenting her work. Poe nods in perplexed understanding.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not your favorite person, but if it means anything, I’m sorry to hear that,” it doesn’t. And the tightness in her throat certainly means nothing to her as well.

He scratches the crown of his head, curls ruffle under his fingertips.

She takes pity on him, “Thank you.”

They look at each other again. A few moments pass, understanding with them. A truce of sorts. One she knows he’s more willing to give. His hands runs across the flush panels, and he grins.

“Seriously, ever think about joining the mechanics’ roster? We could use a pair of expert hands around here. I take care of my baby, but I have failed time and again to smooth these panels down.”

“I’ll consider it,” she doesn’t fail to notice Poe’s smile falter a bit.

“Up to you, honestly,” But his brown eyes are assessing her. Reading too much in her. She wonders if he doesn’t have a little Force of his own. Dormant, like hers had been, but the basest of instincts leaking through.

“Finn has become quite a big deal, with the Resistance, did he tell you?” He sounds like a proud lover, gushing over their beau.

“No, he didn’t,” Rey grabs the melding mask above her brow, and replaces it in the tool box.

“He wouldn’t; unnecessarily modest that one is… Yeah, he’s sort of our poster boy now,” Poe’s hand holds a rag, buffing out the grease on the sides of the ship, “Being the only Stormtrooper to actively leave the First Order makes a nice impression on the home front. He’s even starting a team to recruit POW’s for a rehab program. It took some convincing but with General Organa’s endorsement it got some traction.”

“You mean the Resistance saw some gain from it.”

“Ah, a political mind too? Yes.”

“Does Finn know?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Yet, this fact still angers her. Finn being a “poster boy” for this new cause. This twisted take on moral righteousness. Kylo Ren hadn’t lied. They were for all intents and purposes the _murders, traitors, and thieves_ he’d said they were… Yet another common ground she finds herself standing upon with the monster. Would Finn stay for this?

“How long are you staying, Rey?”

Rey inwardly huffs. The pilot is grating on her last nerve. She imagines a number now. The number of innocent, brainwashed troopers and pilots and ranking officers Poe has killed. She wonders if he too would justify their deaths. Or if he condemns himself like the Resistance does the First Order…. _Where did that come from?! The Order killed an entire system!_

“Not long,” she shivers. Something dark is making its way to the heart of her, and she can’t find the will to fight it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 soon! there were simply too many dynamics to explore in one chapter. please review or share or kudos if you feel like it:P it helps! thanks for reading eeep!


	7. Reflections: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyana keeps a secret. Rey, herself, comes to face the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... I know I've said before that this fic is supposed to be a speculation kind of fic. well as spoilers come out more and more (rumors, i know) i find that they muddle up m headcanon. although some malin head rumors make me giddy heh... anyways, long story short, i'm just gonna write what i write and i hope you like it?? 
> 
> if you do! PLEASE REVIEW<3 it lets my clingy self know i'm loved!

_Lightening. Every night. Dunes stretched miles and melted away into the setting Suns._

_Behind her were billowed walls of dust and the lightening scorched black pockets into the grains. Littered was the sand with warped glass. There was another gleam. Stark and humming against the damaged granules. A light saber. Blue and brilliant._

_Reyána's eyes followed a path from the tip of the light sword, to hand, to shoulder, to face. This strange man. Stranger to her still, and she would walk forward to him if it were not for the violently humming saber and the venom etched into his eyes._

_The staccato of her heart hammered loud in her ears. She wanted to scream. It never came._

Wrrr-wmmmm

_He whipped the saber out and swooped it forward to point at her. The blade’s energy tickled the sweat on her nose. As always she then heard a cry._

_"Don't leave! Come back, come back!"_

_Both her eyes and his flicked to the surrounding dunes. Searching for the girl._

_In the distance Rey was climbing a dune. Following her mother's foot trail she had left. Running from the prison she had thought inescapable. Luke walks toward the child, his glare unrelenting._

_"No!" Reyána cried._

_The sands dipped, and her world seemed to tilt and Luke was suddenly with the girl. An arm wrapped round the front, too tight for Rey to have squirmed. The child whimpered, and Reyána grasped for her daughter. Her middle stuck. Looking down she realized the wind and sand were swallowing her legs. Her eyes were wild as she looked up. Before her, with cold dead eyes, Rey and Luke looked her way; unmoved. She was slowly but surely being devoured by the rising sands. Luke’s blue irises the last thing she saw. Her scream the last she heard._

_Every night the same._

 

Three weeks. Three weeks and they had finally found him. Finally rid of the brothel, only convenient in its discretionary location. Her clothes might just lose the stench of sex and moral degradation. She breathes in the night air.

The streets were filled with species, electric holo-lanterns trim the air above their heads, and speeders zipped above them all. Reyána’s eyes focused and appreciated the vibrant ambiance they provided. For the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful.

“Are you going to kill him?”

Vila did not feign to hide her venom. Reyána was not impervious to where they stood. The girl hated her. No matter how many times Reyána had to (literally) kick her from bed to refuse _repayment_ for her freedom, the girl still considered her a new owner.

“Would it matter?” They had stopped walking by now.

“I’ve seen you kill. My life is in your hands, and you’re hunting this man aimlessly. I don’t even know your name, and yet I’m indebted to you for saving my life. So- will you kill him?”

She could. She could kill him. He may have been a Jedi, but she too had built a name for herself. An alias nonetheless, but amongst other smugglers and bounty hunters, she was well respected. But kill Luke?

Reyána scoffed and began walking again, looking over to Vila, “What I will do or not do, is of my own volition. And your debt is paid once I have my hands on him. My name? Not knowing will have to do.”

Reyána expected a lot of things as reply from the girl. A dejected sigh, an indignant huff. Maybe even a growl. What she had not expected was the Arkanian to lunge for her pistol at her hip.

She pivoted just in time for Vila’s hand to grasp air. An angered howl ripped from her pale throat as she dove again, but not quick enough. Reyána swooped both forearms down upon her spine, which thrusted her torso to the ground. Vila's rebound time was impressive, but Reyána couldn’t expect more from an angry opponent. Anger was a proper motivator when necessary.

Vila-Hik swung a leg at her knees, and nearly cracked against Reyána’s thigh instead. A bloody triumphant grin spread across her face and she scrambled to wrap an arm around the woman’s throat. Thankfully the bystanders had left a wide birth, because Reyána took the opportunity to wrap her own arm around Vila’s white hair, and yanked forward and over herself. The girl slammed against the pavement, having lost all air. Reyána then drove onto her, pinning her.

“STOP!”

Vila spat in her face, “What. Is. Your. Name.”

Such spirit she had. The real reason Reyána became fond of this little spacestorm. Unending potential. Her body leaned forward, too close, the spit shiny on her cheek from the lights above. The girl has earned this.

“My name- is Mara Jade.”

It wasn’t a lie. But she could tell Vila knew it wasn’t the truth, either. However, for then, it would do.

 

 

I’m coming for you…

_“No.”_

_It was cold and dark. Rey can’t discern the ground from her own feet, and she stumbles every few steps. Terror is thundering within her heart. Rain trickling from hair, to nose, to lips- she licks the water away. Famished, and exhausted. Still terrified._

_The storm is unrelenting and the boulders seemingly jump at her every time lightning strikes the sky._   
_The footsteps can be heard from all around her, closing in on her own clumsy gait. She almost wishes they were echoes of her own steps, but she knows for certain they are not. She’s seen this many times before._

I’m coming for you…

_The unmistakable wrrr of a saber igniting makes her skin crawl. Makes her feet try to keep tempo with her pulse. But they are soaked, and practically frozen. She trips and falls. Mud splashing into her mouth and eyes. She scrambles to remove the debris. The presence of something is closing in fast._

_Just as she predicts, they are all there. Luke, Finn, Leia, her mother. They are each holding a fiery sword. Red, hot, and angry._

_“Rey,” her mother breathes, demanding and cruel. She doesn’t have to say anything else. Rey knows. And with a flash of red the saber penetrates her middle. Her diaphragm severed, and air is suddenly impossible._

_“For being your mother.”_

_Her mother draws away, with a serene grin upon her face. Next is Luke._

_“I failed you padawan. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance; you’re an abomination. Created from scratch for the Darkside. I should’ve killed you. I can make up for time lost now,” And Luke, too, drives his own crimson saber through her spleen._

_“I knew I should never have trusted you, yearling. I felt too much of my son in you. This is for taking Han from me. He could be home now. I can never forgive that.”_

_Stab. Wound. Tears._

_Finn…_

_“Finn! Please!”_

_“You’re a monster, Rey.”_

_She chokes as the blade hones in, tried and true, into her heart. She falls to the ground. She is soaked, but as she examines her hands, it is only her blood that stains them. The raining has stopped. Her frayed mind then collects detail by detail. The mud is now black duracrete. The hills of the Ach-To’s island are now high slate walls._

No…

_The realization cripples her tenfold. And the laughing begins. His dark, crazed laughing. The Darkside hums contentedly around her, its scales brushing her sides. It permeates within her pores._

_“Go away!” she wails. The cackling grows louder. Mustering all the strength she can gather, she stands and steadies herself for the inevitable. Death was soon, why not give her all?_

_Pivoting quickly to face him, expecting his full armor, she freezes. He’s bleeding too._

_His eyes are fiery, and his frame shakes violently. From the laughing, from the injuries. Holding his chest just over his sternum. She would pity him, but she doesn’t. He’s lost in the Darkness now. As was she._

_“I will kill you,” she growls._

_His maniacal laugh desists, and his demented grin turns obscenely downward, “You can try, Scavenger. But you will never be rid of me. I am you. You are the Darkside.”_

_“NO!”_

_She lunges at him, claws ready for his robes. He too lunges and gropes for hers. Her heart stammers._

What?

_She reaches again, as does he. Looking into his eyes, brown with flecks of green, his eyes meet hers with the same terror._

How does she know their color?

_A chuckle begins. She groans inwardly, it terrifies and irks her. Does his mania never end? Confusion incapacitates her. It makes her lose the will to fight._

_They crumple to the floor. Blood freshly oozes from their wounds. Their stomach wounds. Their chest wounds. Her heart hammers in her ears again; a last ditch attempt to survive. And shock ripples through her veins. His wounds- they are her own. How? Her left hand rises in experimentation, and his own mirroring hers. The dark chuckling growing into a sinister laugh._

_Her eyes look to his mouth, as she opens her own. A tear falls, when she sees his own lips part. His own tear falling in sync._

_This is all an illusion._

_The moment she realizes this, he begins to melt away. His eyes become greener. His frame becomes smaller; a broad chest narrowing into pert breasts. His black locks, now chestnut. He melts away, until it is herself sat before her. And it is she that is laughing. Shaking violently as the manic mirth rips out from her bloody grin. She laughs until her body gives out…_

 

 

“We have intel to suggest the First Order has fled to the deep core. Sympathizers are harboring the highest Officials. Several sources have confirmed.” Rey watches Admiral Statura with tired eyes. Finn’s shoulders have tensed next to her and Poe brushes his elbow. Reassuring in intent, but Finn ignores it, eyes glued forward. Rey feels triumphant.

“Any cause for concern, for any ‘Hosnian’ repeats?” Leia’s eyes jump back and forth between Statura and Finn, the latter stepping forward.  
“No General, Starkiller was their pride and joy. It was the hub. They’ll be utterly crippled now. And their sympathizers are fair-weather followers; as soon as they realize harboring genocidal fugitives will inconvenience their lavish lifestyles, they’ll give them up.”

Leia’s wary eyes smile gently at Finn, and Rey releases a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Statura? Does this add up?”

“Yes, General. Their resources being solely invested in Starkiller would leave them more than conveniently inept. For now, the eminent threat has been depleted.”

“Depleted, yes. Eradicated? No.”

The room grows silent with Leia’s words. She continues.

“There is something brewing. I feel it,” Rey knows Leia is speaking of the Force. But Rey also knows Leia would never admit it. The senate had already balked at her for her “delusions” and “paranoia” regarding the Empire wannabe cult that called themselves the First Order. How was she going to convince them when admitting to Force sensitivity? They’d only discredit her more for her “hokey” beliefs.

“Keep our scouts looking, their bound to hear something- see something. But the fight is not over,” Her aged eyes find Rey’s then. And Rey chills to the core. She knows.

Finn’s feet have been shuffling to and fro. Finally he speaks, “And the ‘Troopers?”

“Until we can be sure, we can’t do much for them. Hopefully our propa-holos in our territories will spread word. They’ll come forth on their own, but outright extraction for the ‘Troopers is too risky,” Leia does not seem pleased by the outburst.

Rey fights a growl. _They’re lying._

Finn picks up on her struggle and tries to hold her hand, but his skin burns. She’s cold. Last night has taken its toll.

“Meeting adjourned,” Statura finalizes the conference with a curt nod.

“Rey, may I speak with you?” Finn was about to say something to her, but he retreats to let the General aside. She watches Finn exit the command center. She turns to find the General only a few inches from her.

How had she moved so quickly?

“Yes, what can I help you with General?”

“Please, call me Leia. You’re not officially in the ranks; you don’t need to address me as such.”

Her reassuring smile nauseates Rey. But Rey nods in acquiescence altogether. Leia looks around them just briefly enough to assess no one was in earshot.

“How is my brother?” Leia’s eyes inspect her. Zoom in, and pick apart Rey’s every twitch and worry. It unnerves Rey, and she wants to look away. She can’t.

“He’s quiet. Likes his alone time.”

“So he won’t be coming back,” again her eyes ask the real questions. Why isn’t he really coming back?

Rey feels the anxiety ripple over into her senses. Leia is wary of what this may uncover. Rey feels a hint of sick pleasure rise from this fact.

“Not in the foreseeable future, no.”

Leia grips the holo-panel next to her. Her resolve, the civil façade, cracking. As is Rey’s, the palpable tension grating strip of her nerves. Then there is a shift, a hum that permeates their senses. The vision. It’s there again, flickering in their mind’s eye. Only the landscape is less ambiguous. Green and roving hills and rain. There is only one message in the Force. _The Knights on Ren would be on D’qar. Soon._ And a flood of panic, not her own gives Rey a pang of sudden clarity. Leia has been in her head this entire time. Tapping into her Force. Just barely noticeable- ‘til now. It seems Luke isn’t a terrible teacher after all-

“No- he’s not… And he’s a good man. A man you and I both need desperately… Rey,” Leia struggles to give words to her emotions. So many ripple between them. The most acrid being regret. Fear, after that.

“Tell me something General. Did you know your brother intended to kill me?”

Leia’s eyes fly to look into Rey’s. The defense and anguish, warring within her gaze, confirms it all. _Murderers, Thieves, Traitors…_

“How long, _Leia_?” Rey’s voice trembles. The restraint of her fury shuddering painfully in every fiber of her being.

“Rey,” the General’s gentleness stings. Rey snaps.

The air around the two of them quakes. The general is frozen. To all the others Leia looks to be deep in thought, and Rey is merely the observer. However, the General is pinned in the Force, and Rey looks on with a cold gaze.

The General fights back. And blood begins to drip from her nose. The crimson trail from nostril to lip to chin, makes Rey think of a similarly stark rouge saber. One that melted rivets into the snow and gutted out chunks of earth. The droplet nearly drips onto the Generals crisp tunic, and Rey gasps as her hold releases. Leia whimpers in pain.

“General?” Poe comes to the woman’s aid. Leia’s eyes search for Rey’s, and Poe’s follow.

Rey takes her leave immediately.

 

“Rey! Slow down,” Finn rushes up from behind her, grabs her wrist. It singes her flesh, but she cannot make herself remove his hold.

They’re far from the control room, now. In an obscure hall. Not too far from an outlet to the hangar only several sprints away. She can see the _Falcon_ in her mind’s eye. Her thoughts halt when too-warm hands grip her face and turn her gaze towards brown eyes. She remembers herself, her reason for coming here.

“Rey, what is happening? What is wrong?” His voice is pleading. Sad. And her heart breaks. She grabs the lapels of his coat, and pulls him forward. Forcing him to follow her footfalls into a data frame alcove. The hum of the computers providing perfect cover.

“Finn- I- what I’m about to tell you. You- can you promise me you won’t leave me?”

“Rey? What is it?” she could sense his apprehension, but his voice stayed even. His eyes trained upon her. He seemed, levelled. Analytical. Good- he’d need to be emotionless for this.

“Something happened between me and Kylo Ren. We- bonded? Ugh! I can’t explain it, but he’s there in my head… And I haven’t been the same. Since _Starkiller_. But it truly started on Ach-To.”

She sees Luke, his scared eyes. Incoherent eyes. She sees her mother and the fire. She sees her mother’s regret and pain.

“Finn, I- I know where I come from… It’s not good. I,” the words choke her, “I was created. Someone tortured my mother to create me. Made me in a test-tube and forced my mother to carry me. I’m not supposed to exist… I’m an abomination.”

Tears trail down her cheeks, Finn’s hands shoot up to smooth them away, “Rey, no-“

“- she wanted me dead! She gave me up, Finn! She hated me!”

Finn grabs hold of her; crushes her to his chest, “No one could hate you.”

“I feel so lost. I waited for her and she wanted me dead. Why? Why!” Her cries are muffled by his thick shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” His breath tickles the skin at her neck. She shivers, “I’m so sorry.”

Rey’s arms hold him tighter. His warmth searing her skin upon her cheek. Igniting a hunger she had only felt a few times before. Worse than the physical. Desperation.

Her knuckles whiten, curling within the leather, the jacket crinkling in her grasp. She holds him closer to her. Focusing on fitting every contour of their bodies together. His belt digging into her hip. He gasps.

“Rey,” He exhales, she thinks reverently.

The wall just behind them entices the idea of closer contact. She chases the thought. They fall into it. His back pinned, as she instinctually grinds her pelvis into his.

“ _Hnnng_ ,” is her reply, as well as her cheek grinding into his pulse point. Her nose greedy for his scent. Their cheeks bump, and their lips brush against each other.

Her eyes fly open, pupils swallowing up her green irises. His own eyes are too black. She feels like she is again under a microscope. His eyebrows twitch. She surges forward, but freezes just shy of his mouth. The static of their lips palpable.

“Runaway with me.”

He freezes. She chases his lips as he pulls away, and the moment is sobered. Like cold water on her nerves.

“What?” Finn’s eyes are incredulous. His fingers sliding away from her back to brace her upper arms and pull her away. His brown eyes dipping to find hers. She can’t look at him. She has to.

“Run away with me.”

“I can’t do that, there are people counting on me.”

“They’re using you Finn! Can’t you see that?” Her voice is indignant. The desperation clawing at her lungs, smothering her rationale.

“You don’t think I know that?” His anger is bubbling just at the surface. Her Force reading it as plain as the holos that riddle her cot. Holos regarding Force users, and the understood principles of Force bonds…

He steps forward and she retreats, “Is this why you came back? To get me to leave with you?”

“No- I thought- I never planned on this! You being so involved!”

“How could I not? Rey, they brainwashed me. The First Order brainwashed millions of men and women. They- they die needlessly every day. The resistance? They can help.”

“Cha! You think they care if these men and women were manipulated? They don’t! They just want to be ‘right’! They want to be the saviors of the galaxy! Nobody asked for them, and now they’re using you to bring in new recruits.”

“I know, Rey! But at least I can save as many of my brothers and sisters as I can. I can’t leave them,” he sighs deeply, chews his lip, “Don’t make me choose, Rey.”

Her body shudders painfully. All her hopes shattered. Little shards of her heart hit the metal floors in the alcove. She could almost hear the painful echoes of their descent. Her hands find the ache in her chest, and rest just above it. She feels it bleeding.

“I didn’t realize there was a choice.”

Finn’s eyes pop back up to hers, they scrunch in equal pain, “Rey- I,”

“They knew, Finn. Leia. Luke. And he was going to kill me. I just thought you should know the people you’re fighting for.”

His hand reaches for her but she shies from it. Hugging herself.

“Goodbye Finn,” and she rushes past him. Ignores his calls. And keeps running.

 

It’s raining. The ground is sludge and it gives under her vicious gait. Her tears melt away in the heavy pour. Something dark is gripping her. Terrifying her. Burning her lungs.

_I can’t anymore._

She’s not speaking of running. She’s not speaking of crying.

_I’ve found you, scavenger. I’m coming for you._

She musters all the energy she has left, all the will she can bring herself to give, and broadcasts her Force towards him.

“Promise me this: make it quick.”

She can almost see the flicker of data ports and shiny badges of fleet officers. A viewport showcasing the expanse of space. She can almost feel a small sinister smirk synch full lips, and crinkle the edges of hazel eyes. She can hear him in her ear.

“Of that, girl, you can be certain.”

She sighs in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's about to get interesting... and actual reylo next chapter!!


	8. Revolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive how ridiculously long this took me to write! But in my defense action sequences are tricky. I didn't have a beta this time around so if you spot a few grammar errors and tense inconsistencies, pretend they're not there lol:P I'll go back and edit it later! I was just too excited to post this! Thank you all for putting up with me! Bless <3

The rain is ripping streaks into the air. The wind making Rey's skin unbearably icy. She can't feel her legs anymore. She had run for miles; searching out the coast. Following her pull to the precipice she feels she has already fallen over. 

Where are you?

His voice is not as menacing. He sounds softer and tentative. This would put her off if she had will left to care. But the words sound wary, and her heart breaks. She can't bare this small mercy. In short spurts, shaky and unsure, she ripples her force out to where she felt his voice.

Here.

Over and over she beacons, until the vibration from which the Force hummed stands inches behind her. She breathes out a final sigh. Her knees fall into the mud.

Make it quick.

"Foolish girl," the softness is gone, but it's not a menacing growl as it should be. It is certainly not mechanical. 

With a growl, against the grain of wind and wet, she spins to face the unwelcome party. 

"Luke," there is no disguising the venom. 

Just as she had found him on Ach-To, he now stares. Sizing her up. She sees the usual mixture of disdain and pity. 

He's soaked. His eyes are tired and his chest heaving.

"You would give up so easily?" His eyes are sad, but his voice is fierce.

"It is not your choice. You of all people should be glad to be rid of me," she stands. Back hunched, ready to pounce. A rumble grows within her chest. 

"For someone so willing to die, you are certainly ready to fight," Luke says gesturing his hands out to her. Her legs flex with annoyance. She reaches for the staff she thoughtlessly left behind. 

"I'm not here to fight you, Rey. You only saw a fraction of that memory. You need to see the rest. Trust me."

"I trusted you! I trusted you more than I trusted anyone. You buried that trust. You. So why should I let you in now? Why care if I live now, when you both were so desperate to be rid of me?" 

Her voice cracks with the last words. Her lips tremble. And she praises the Maker that her tears are hidden in the downpour. 

"Rey. Let me show you."

He's reaching again. And she is rippling in fear. Trembling with anger. Her teeth bared for the wind and rain to hit gums and canines. 

"Agh!" She lunges. Grabbing a thumb and twisting his hand away, she grasps a lapel of his coat with her free hand. Luke crumbles a bit with the force of his twisted appendage. She uses the momentum of his decent to step on his bent knee and leap over his twisted arm to wrap the fabric around his throat. 

"You should have stayed away," Her growl is fierce. And her will is fiercer. 

Luke struggles but he makes no attempt to fight her. She feels his Force shudder and then she feels it wrap around his throat as a barrier between the coat and his wind pipe. Only barely enough to let him breathe.

"Damn you, girl."

And he throws her. His Force ripping her from him and pinning her arms to her ribs. She trips from the push and lands face down into the mud. 

He turns her over, sit her up and hold her shoulders. 

"Look at me, Rey," she refuses with an impetuous shake of her head, "Look. At. Me."

She doesn't.

"Very well. I had hoped for this to be gentle. But you've forced my hand."

And the memory begins.

 

The halls were grand and the cases ran well over two stories. Hovering droids skimmed across the edges as their aqua blue sensors scanned the abandoned archives for vacant spaces. People spat on the ground in front of the entrance. Their saliva mucking up the ground, as they curse its waste of space. 

Luke marveled at the seeming unending rows of holopads, and ancient texts that lay just beyond the pane of the windows. A mist befell the mid-levels of the city just then. The product of rain being broken by towering facades. He welcomes the coolness. A stark contrast to the mugginess from below. Rain never finds its way to the lower levels. Only the moisture, and the heat of too many bodies makes it unbearable.

Tonight he could leave. Once he got his hands on what he needed.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he halted just shy of the entry. His eyes find a woman propped against a wall to his right. She was of average height, lean but not so much to deplete her curves, her jaw is square, and her hair artificially red. Curious. He hadn’t felt her in the Force.

He goes to enter again, not entirely sure she had been addressing him, or if she was another of Coruscant’s deranged beings.

“Okay, fine. Enter. And when you find yourself ambushed by the squadron of ‘Troops, you only have yourself to blame.” 

So she had been talking to him. 

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter? I’m saving your skin.” Her jaw twitches a little, and it irks him that he has no inkling as to why.

He looked her over again. Soaked in the details.

“Bounty Hunter. And I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Jedi trick? And no. You’re not. No need for trust when you know I’m not lying.”

He looks away nodding. He still can’t read her. And most Hunters shoot first and ask questions later. Not risking a getaway. She’s too passive.

“There’s a squadron. How is it you know this?”

“I’ve been tracking you. Got a tip, and I followed it. Knew you’d show up here eventually. I was waiting you out and saw the movement from out here. You go in, they rush you.”

He extends his Force to feel within the halls. She’s right. Some twenty or so pulses vibrate amongst the stacks and pillars of archives. 

“I was so careful.”  
“Apparently not.” Her voice was blunt and there was a hint of mirth to it.

Then it was he rushing, she stands taller, and they are eye to eye.

“So, I’m to leave with you then. Do you expect me to go easily? Why should I?”

Her eyes are hazel. And her cheeks are pale but not sallow. And freckles riddle the skin. But her brows end his mused state, as they knitted together in a fierce expression.

“You owe me.”

“I don’t even know you. How can I owe you?”

“One word: Jakku.”

   
A shiver ran down his spine. And suddenly his brain fills in the details. Her hair had been a chestnut when he'd saved her. It glowed golden with the fire behind them. The base exploding and turning sand into glass. Same hazel eyes. More vibrant, he observes then; she no doubt had a better diet. Small. He remembers how small she had been as he carried her to the ship. But there is doubt in those eyes. The very same as the babe he helped her birth. 

"It seems I do owe you. And once more. For tonight. Where do we go from here?"

"You're not going to fight me." It was not a question, but she'd been surprised. Her brows gave that much away. 

"No. Going with you is the wiser decision. I can always escape."

She kicked herself off the wall, chuckled with her arms still crossed, "You can try."

They stare now. He almost regrets this decision. But he's mainly peeved that everything he's worked for will have to be abandoned. Countless minds searched for this whisk of information. He was running out of time, he could feel it. But something kept whispering to him to move forward. Follow her, trust her. It seemed to say. 

With a hand he gestures to her. Her shoulders tensed, unsure of his willingness to use the Force against her, he thought. But she stood firm nonetheless. He likes her spirit. She's like Leia. Wary of the unknown, but prepared to the core to defend. 

She looked him over again, nodded, and spoke, "I have a friend waiting just down the way. We meet her and book it to my ship. I'll smuggle you out. And you can repay that debt." 

He shakes his head, acquiesced. They began to move. Her legs were lithe, donned in black leather, and weaved around humanoids and other Coruscantians. He stayed behind. Watching her hands and holster. She had a cape flowing behind her catching most of the precipitation. And goggles mounted upon her head. 

"Okay. Follow me. And be quick. They'll get suspicious you haven't come in yet. There are sentries stationed on each corner and a level up. Keep your head down; won't be too suspicious since its raining. Thank the maker."

"Why's that?"

"You look like a hermit Jedi. Couldn't even try to blend into the scene, could you?"

He scoffed at her condescension. The mist still fell upon the platform they walked. Speeders zoomed past along the ledge. A few steps ahead of them a guard paced the bend. He felt the tension in the air. In the distance, a point solidified in the and he feels the hum of a comm-link. 

"Speeder. Six o'clock. They know we're here," He made sure to close the distance between them. Hand went to her back as he spoke. She stopped then and bent to tend to her boots. 

"This is hardly the time to adjust your apparel."

From where she was knelt she looked up at him.

"If you ever touch me again, I don't care what Force mumbo jumbo you have, I'll cut off the offending limb. Clear?" She punctuated the threat as her hands pulled the goggles down over her eyes. A light blinked on the side before a green hue glowed over the lens. A little x pin-pointed a spot behind him.

Before he has a chance to answer she stood abruptly, with a blaster pulled from her boot's lining. Raised and true, her pistol fired. His head swings 'round to watch the speeder he'd felt spin and sputter engine fluid. The Trooper flung from it and collided with the side of the level's platform and fell to the depths below. Her scream heard until a thump, and explosion below ended the mishap.

He unclasped and ignited his saber. It deflected a shot from the Trooper that was stationed ahead of them. Blaster aimed at the woman, he leaps in front of her to deflect the second shot. Then it was rapid fire. He arced and swooped and punted the blade against streaks of red beams. They sparked on contact and lit up the duracrete and steel. 

"Heads up. Twenty heads your, six!"

Her torso spun round and she pulled the pistol from her holster. Two raised, and the green blasted vibrant from the barrels. 

"Twelve heads!" She yelled over the raucous. Civilians cowered on both sides of the walkway. Sporadic screams and wails broke up the sound of blasterfire. 

Luke was growing tired of defense. Summoning the Force, he pooled the energy beneath his feet, pulled it tight and let it spring him up into the air, flipped himself over the line of Troopers. Their heads more than likely suffering from whiplash he pounced so abruptly. From behind them he slashed at the backs of a few immediate threats. Force pushed a few others. The woman's blaster eliminated two others. 

"Four!" He screams.

"I can count, thank you," she snarked back. His eyes rolled. 

Click. Click. 

Their eyes lock on her pistols. Jammed.

"Damn," she shrugs and replaced them in her holsters. Nearly moved her head to the side as a trooper to his left fired. She flipped her hair from her face as she stood again, blaster in boot. 

"You want him, or can I?" He raised a brow and shrugged, gesturing with the saber to have her way. 

She doesn't hesitate.

Dodging a few more blasts, he watched as she sprints at the Trooper. Their knee bent, using the platform to steady their shot. She uses the joint as a step to wrap her leg around the shoulders. In one graceful swoop she pulled a knife from a slot under her arm and found the sweet spot between the shoulder and helmet. Twisted the head with it. He heard a sickening pop as the Trooper's neck broke. The knife sliding out effortlessly as she dismounted, and kicks back at the next Trooper pouncing her. 

They stumbled back, but only briefly. Their recoil time impressive, but she was quicker. Spun around, her heel connected with the side of the helmet, flinging it to the side. She jumped over their shoulder and wrapped an arm round it's neck. They were back to back now, and with her arm twisted behind her in the fierce grip she kneels abruptly. The forced movement cracks the Trooper's neck and back. He shivered at their groan of pain abruptly ended. 

The next assailant punched the side of her face. She was not fazed. Eyes alight with fury. Almost glowing in the excitement of their defeat. Just below the torso armor, her wrist flings forward, lodged the knife under the gap, and pulls back, slicing a gaping wound into their abdomen. Blood spurts from it. Luckily no intestine followed, or the stew Luke had earlier would accompany the plasma littering the platform. The soldier grasped their side as blood hemorrhaged uncontrollably; fallen to the ground. The woman stood again, raised a knee, and brutally kicked the helmet in. The Troop's writhing ceased. 

"That was three. Did you get Four?" She wiped her forearm across her face, wiped the blood from her cheek and lips.

By the time he felt the itch at the back of his neck, warning him of the impending danger, he'd witnessed her eyes widen, her body lunge forth, and her mouth contort into a horrified grimace of warning. 

"Luke!" And it was precisely then he felt the burn of several blast hit his side. One even came through his middle. He fell in pain, collapsing into his side. 

Her growl is fierce, and her eyes practically flash red. Her hand flew to the Trooper's throat. He watches as her knuckles turned white, the red as blood seeped into her skin. She then ripped her hand to the side, tearing through the material and flesh at the offender's jugular. 

Her shoulders heaved as she wait, dares, the corpse to move. 

"I think he's dead," he croaks out. The burn from the wounds proved too much to commit to much speech. 

She pivots abruptly to observe him. 

"We gotta go. Or you certainly will be."

As if the universe and all its glory decided to play a sick joke. Everything around went black.

He awoke with a start. It was hot and he felt the tell-tale sign of humidity in the air. With one look he deducted they were in on of the lower debauched sectors of Coruscant. Between he and the woman is a whole lot of mattress some carpeted floor and a sofa.

"How long was I out?"

"Six hours. You're heavier than you appear."

He scoffed, only to groan instead. His ribs creaked and the abdominals just below them flamed painfully.

"Luckily the blasters missed the vital organs. Two hit your side; flesh wounds really. The blaster wound in the middle was the nastiest, but I cleansed it fairly well and the bacta seems to be doing the job. You had a fever an hour ago. I can tell it's broken, and you're on the mend."

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

"Should I?" She had held an air of self assurance thus far, but her exterior cracked a bit. 

He stared at her. Truly perplexed. This stranger. And yet he could see a fraction of the pain she held as a shield. Cocooning herself of action and discourse; fierceness that propels her purpose. A purpose he has yet to discover.

"You left us. Abandoned us."

Ah! So this was it. 

"Where's your 'friend'?"

She had been stoic thus far. That facade cracked. She threw her hands from her chest, violently aside.

"Why didn't you take us with you?" She growled. A vein swelled in the center of her forehead.

"That wasn't a part of the plan."

Luke recalled the night. Recalled His constant mantra  I'm doing the right thing. Over and over. Recalled the sudden sickness wash over him as his ship jerked from hyperspace. Recalled the base abandoned and the woman screaming in agony from contractions. Recalled seeing hazel eyes so tortured his heart broke. Set fire to the place that had tore down this creature. And his final memory was the utter exhaustion that crippled him when the babe was born. When relief flooded his senses that the Force sighed a heavy No. The child would live. The mother would live. And Luke could live with himself. 

As if in some sympathetic way, her snarl  relaxed. A thought tumbling inside her brain. He could see the calculations.

"You went to kill her."

Luke's shamed and defeated expression falls, eyes finding the carpeted floor most appealing. Thought perhaps it'd be his last sight.

"Yes."

There are several beats. One even more unbelievably uncomfortable than the last, desperately quiet moments.

"You should have gone through with it."

Luke’s eyes connected with her's then. They are ablaze, genuine in regret.

"She would've been better off than to have a mother like me."

And she collapses inside. He sees it in the way her chest shuddered painfully against breathing. How a tear streaked down one cheek. And in the way regret practically seeped from her pores. 

It's quiet for a long time.

"Don't you want to know why?"

Her eyes are fire. The teeth bared again. 

"Does it matter? Will it absolve me for abandoning my child?"

Chest heaving; breathe harrowing morbid rasps into the air between them.

"You can hardly be blamed."

She laughed at that. She was a fierce sight to behold. 

"You should've killed us when you had the chance." 

It's spoken with a growl. His body shivers under her glare.

"So, you will kill me after all."

Her eyebrow raised- tempted. Instead she stood straighter. Pursed her lips and shook her head contemplative; mulled over her options. The red of her hair catching the warm glow of the lamps in the room. Looking something akin to a flame. He hoped he would not burn. 

"You can't read me can you."

His eyes widened. He thought he'd been careful.

"The Gotal who owned this brothel told me he couldn't sense me. I thought it was morbid babbling, but I can see now it is serious. I wonder if I should be concerned. But I'm going to use it to my advantage."

She walked to him then. Leaned over into his space, hands on either side of his legs; steadied to stare into his eyes.

"I may have abandoned her. I'll live with that. But you, my savior," she did not hide the malice, " as repayment for leaving to live five years in fear, shall help me find the people responsible. And most certainly, you will help me destroy the people who threaten my daughters existence. Until then, never doubt that a mother will do just about anything for her children. Even kill a legendary Jedi. You're either with me. Or against me. You choose."

He could see the spectrum of greens and golds and caramels that litter her irises. 

"What is your name?"

She smiled. 

"Mara Jade. I'm looking forward to doing business with you, Luke Skywalker."

 

The memory ends so abruptly, the wind and rain nearly knocks the air from her lungs. And Rey sputters and gasps, flailing in someone's hold.

"Rey?" Luke is still holding her head, now his eyes are void of guilt, the resentment drained, even the anger. Pure, unadulterated concern ripples through him.

"If you were going to fret so much, perhaps you should not have forced your way into my head," her mirth is barely audible in the downpour. But Luke hears it. And he chuckles in relief. 

Their eyes connect and it seems forever, but Rey breathes out the last of her contempt. The only emotion that permeates her insides is regret.

"Luke. I'm so sorry. I-" and Luke pulls her forward into a fierce hug.

"It's not your fault, Rey. I had no right to keep that from you. I was wrong."

She grasps at his cloak. The rain soaks the fabric, and their bodies shiver. 

A ripple of dread shudders through the air. The Force whispers to them. Soon.

"Here," Luke releases her. He reaches under his cloak. From it he pulls out the saber. The damned saber that started this all. 

"But it's yours!" He smiles sardonically. And shakes his head. She's baffled and terrified all at once. 

"My master had it long before me, and my father before him. I have my own. It called to you- it's yours until the time comes for you to construct your own. It’ll be enough for now.”

He looks to the sky. Lightening lights up the gray clumps of clouds, “The Knights of Ren will be here soon. We must prepare ourselves.”

Her eyes stare at the saber. It's metal gleam in the sporadic flashes of lightning. It contorts in the brief lapses of darkness and illumination. Holding it now only gives her dread. Everything around feels ominous and tainted. But she looks to the sky, she can feel the smile under a mask. And suddenly her fear is not crippling. It's a motivation. 

Luke sees the resolve click into place. He's grins with pride.

"You are strong. Stronger than you know, but I believe tonight you'll prove to yourself where that threshold begins- if it does at all."

They rise from the murky soil. And begin their preparations for the trial to come.

 

Ren stands before the holo. Snoke is sat upon the dark throne. Tendrils for fingers grip the edges of the stone. Translucent and frail, but sharp in their edges. The Supreme Leader’s knuckles look more akin to thorns, than joints. His grin revealing shards for teeth.

"You have found the scavenger girl. Good. We can eliminate this inconvenient threat, and continue our work."

"Yes, my lord." Itching is the darkness within him; Ren’s anticipation vibrating eagerly for the meeting between he and his foe. The girl is so ready to surrender. 

"Be wary of your excitement, Ren. Overconfidence in this situation can be devastating. Though I'm glad to see your compassion for the girl has been eradicated. You've done well, my Knight."

Ren rolls his shoulders in pride. Standing straighter with the praise. The Knights that flank him stand dutifully in garb. Black panels of armor and woven cloaks. 

"We should reach the girl within the hour. The Finalizer will wait just outside of the Resistances sensors. You’ll strike her down, and then the Resistance will fall. The priority is to slay the girl as quickly as possible. Remember your purpose Ren. We are bringing balance to the Galaxy. The existence of Force users, anyone who can abuse the Force; who use it for self-serving righteousness- should be brought down. We must destroy them all, and allow the Force itself begin anew."

"Yes. Master," Ren bows his head, "I shall bring you her corpse, or die trying."

"I shall hope that may not even be a possibility."

Snoke's words leave no room for debate. He will succeed. It's his only purpose. 

"The junk dealer. I wish to kill him," Ren can't be bothered to sound anything more than bored. Plutt's death will mean nothing. But the satisfaction of seeing the refuse die by his blade nearly makes a grin spread across his own lips.

"No. He may prove useful in the future. But you may express upon my behalf that he shall not expect anything from the First Order.”

Bowing his head, Ren stamps down his ire. 

“Kiso Eyn. What information can you give me of Luke Skywalker?”

Ren’s head snaps to his left, chest heaving. What right have you?

Kiso scoffs, stepping forward, “We have reliable intel suggesting that Luke Skywalker has come out of hiding. He is now with the Resistance. Undoubtedly left the Jedi Temple with the girl. Seeing as she is Kylo’s only mission at this time, it is understandable that he may have slipped Ren’s senses.”

Fire boils in Ren’s veins. He observes Snoke bite his inner cheek, whilst sitting back on his perch.

“Kiso, do you mean to suggest an incompetency to serve dutifully in Ren?” Snoke’s beady eyes flick to Ren then back to the knight, “As I recall the last time you impugned upon his honor, Ren removed your arm.”

As if the words conjured the memory Kiso Eyn rolls his mechanical shoulder, working away the phantom ache. Ren remembers the wail that had escaped his lips when a satisfied zzzpt punctuated the removal of Kiso’s limb. Ren sneers triumphantly beneath his mask.  
“Without even the capability to sense the Force, you lack credit to criticize.”

Kiso bows contritely. Not without the abundance of resentment flooding over into the air where Ren stands.

“Last night, the girl called out in the Force. It was strong. Strong enough perhaps, to beckon any Force user in the Galaxy. Hence her priority. Luke may be a Jedi, learned in the ways of the Force, but this girl,” Ren hears Snoke’s jaw click with the tension of grinding his teeth, “She’s an uncertainty. An unquantifiable variable we cannot afford. Luke is too predictable, but she cannot be overlooked. It is simply fortuitous that Luke has walked himself to his death. Ren, you will eliminate both.”

“You may rely on me to succeed,” he bows lowly. The smugness and the double entendre is not missed on Kiso, nor the others, as Ren senses the flare of indignation amongst the fellow Knights. 

Not above petty applications of authority, Ren sends a blistering invasion of heat into each of their minds. Making them see white hot sparks and feel flames lick their synapses. They all crumple slightly from their formation; only slightly. He takes pride that conditioning their pain thresholds has proved fruitful. But he was smart enough to have only given them a fraction of the Force he could give. He would only need minor encouragement, and the usurpers would be driven mad with agony.

“Ren, I look forward to the revelry we shall partake once Luke is dead. Balance will be achieved, and the Resistance shall be irreversibly crippled. Go,” with a lackluster wave of his hand Snoke sends them off. The holo fades, and the room is lit by the lights lining the perimeter. 

Ren turns to face the Knights, all of which are panting from the effects of his manipulation. Kiso rod-straight, breathing heavily, but not from pain. He stalks his way to stand before Ren.

“You may be his star-pupil, but you will always be the Force scum we have devoted our lives to annihilate,” Kiso is broad and sharp-edged. His rage is rivaled by none other than Ren himself.

“You often forget your place. Tell me this. Do you think I can’t read your thoughts? Do you think I cannot see your wishes? Your desires?” flashes of black cloaks falling from sweaty bodies and strong jaws locked in passionate kisses and grips impress upon Kiso’s mind. Ren and Kiso himself battling with skin and tongues for dominance, “You should rethink your wooing strategy, Kiso Eyn. I will always be the superior one.”

Kiso explodes with unbridled rage, and Ren drinks it in. Storing it someplace deep where it churns and boils, and spits back out into Eyn’s pores like acid. The Knight falls.

“I never fail to succeed,” Ren raises his chin in pride and morbid glee.

Kiso chuckles maniacally in his pain, still defiant, “Tell that to the girl.”

Ren is now the incarnate of rage, he breaks Kiso’s finger with a flick of his own. The choke of air that escapes the knights lips propel him forward, “Yes. I certainly will.”

 

Its merely drizzling now, but Rey knows the scene. They’re in the eye of the storm, once Kylo Ren and his hoard arrive the storm will rage again. 

“Are you afraid?” She asks Luke.

“Yes, but not for the fight. I’m afraid of ghost Rey. Of pasts that repeat themselves, and regrets I’ll never make right.”

Luke is sat next her, where she paces. He is looking to the skies. Grey and purple, rumbling clouds blanket the atmosphere. A cocoon. All the anticipation broiling to a peak within the electrically charged air. The Force speaks, now.

And without delay a First Order command shuttle breaks the clouds before them. Its engines violently chuffing like a hungry Nexu. Inching its way to the clearing they now stood.  
“Ben has always had strong arms, they get the best of him. Watch his swing. When he overcompensates, strike.” Rey’s eyes widen at Luke’s words. He couldn’t possibly trust her to fight him alone.  
 “Rey, you fought him before. You’ll only need to fend him off until I finish the others, breathe,” Luke’s gives her a soft glance, “Do you trust me?” she reluctantly nods, and he smiles slightly before jettisoning himself into a line of trees with the Force. Mere seconds after, the shuttle’s ramp began to unfurl, and with it Ren and his Knights walk to her. She hides the saber under her belt and tunic.

Their coats billowed behind them. Their legs thick and taught with much use. Arms as thick as her head. They were massive, and Kylo seemed the most menacing. She could feel the ice through their bond. She can no longer deny it. She can feel the frosty bite upon her thread that seems irrevocably wound with his.

The Knights stop a mere ten feet from her, as Kylo stalks the rest of the way to her. He circles her, back hunched and tense. Predatory; every inch of him. She shivers.

“Did my uncle wish to not see me? No doubt expressed his fear of regrets and failed purpose,” She felt the tickle at the back of her consciousness. Anger began to simmer with her.

“He must have been upset that his star pupil turned into a homicidal creep, who can’t seem to stay out of my head,” She turns her head to face the mask, a snarl painting her face, “You’re uncle isn’t here.”

“Oh, I have every reason to believe he is. Though I curious as to why you’ve changed your mind so swiftly?” He’s still circling her. She watches his boots. Droplets spatter the leather, some washing away the mud. The raining begins to quicken.

“I haven’t changed my mind, I just see no reason to talk. You promised to be quick,” the agitation and anxiousness was peaking its limit within her. Kylo Ren stops just behind her, she feels him lean in. Her breath catches as a gloved hand slides across her side to the front of her abdomen as he speaks. 

“You haven’t changed your mind?” He fists her tunic in hand before pulling her towards him, his chest solid and warm despite the frigid chill he sends her way through the Force, so cold, “Then why do you have my grandfather’s saber?”

She shuts her eyes and wills as much of her fear as she can, forcing him away from her with an invisible shove. She hears his saber ignite, but not before she pulls the saber free from her tunic. Igniting her own.

Kylo swings the saber down to strike her, but he overreaches her as she leaps miraculously out of the way. She takes the opening to strike up at his head; nicking the helmet and sending a good portion flying with sparks in the night. He roars. When he turns to her once more, she can see half his face revealed and contorted with rage. She licks her lips; satisfied to get a good hit in. He throws the tattered armor away.

“Ren, he’s here! Agh!” the sounds of a hiss, and thunk in mud reach her ears before she turns to see Luke standing over the severed body of a Knight. 

“This was not the family reunion I was hoping for, Ben.” Luke’s eyes are dark, but he grins nonetheless.

“You handle him, the girl is mine!” And chaos ensues. Luke strikes at the hilts and blades of the Knights’ weapons, but they are supercharged to withstand the power of the saber. Rey turns back to Kylo. His eyes dark and most assuredly bloodthirsty.

“You want a fight, girl?” She raises the blade. Frame locked, and she channels the Force. He looks down to his own, and shakes his head, “So be it.”

The duel begins with a swift arching swing towards her middle. Rey’s elbows go up, pointing the blade down, to parry the blow. Rebounding, Ren twirls, his skirts whipping against her legs, and his elbows finds its way to her jaw. Air and spit and blood fly from her mouth. Now it is she who howls with rage. He takes the moment to slice a burn into her exposed ribs, but she reacts quickly and Force-pushes Ren back a few paces. His boots digging into the mud as he fights it. They dance like this for ages it seems, growling and hissing, each taking turns pushing each other with the Force and blocking fatal blows.

“You wanted to die over family? You wanted to die because you were made for darkness? What a waste!”

Defying possibility, her brows scrunch further and her grimace deepens. She says nothing. Instead she fastens the Force upon the icy knot that tangles with her own. She finds not icy shards, but she feels cool water. Like icicles melting; freezing and dense but slick and near-pliable. There’s a crack in a part of the frigid thread. Like fingers tracing a wall, she would have missed it had his hitched breath not confirmed it for her. She explores the fissure, and begins to send tendrils of her anger and fury into it. But it feels wrong. So her assault softens. And soon she realizes why. A part of him is letting her in.

They are fighting, but they are in the snow again. Their breath puffing into condensed mists before them. She’s being backed up to the cliff again. But she’s seeing herself through his eyes. This is his memory. 

She sees herself holding the saber. The blue glow lighting her soft features. Illuminating her ferocity and terror. She’s sees flushed cheeks, and glossed lips; from a tongue that darts out every so often wetting them. Snowflakes fall onto the fresh spit, and she feels his curiosity swell. 

What does that mean? He couldn't possibly...

She begins to feel a swell of hope, excitement, and caution from his memory. He’s thinking about training her. About her rejection. He’s thinking about failing. He’s thinking about Han. And dread ripples through him. She nearly chokes, ripping herself from the memory. He doesn't get to grieve the man he killed.

Quickly she’s ripped back to the present, Ren clutching his head. Fingers digging into locks of raven hair. 

“NO!” he bellows, shooting up a hand to retrieve the saber he must have dropped during her clumsy expedition into his mind. He’s all fury, but his eyes. They are different now. The ice has gone and there is nothing but fire and fear. A fear that looks too concerned for her liking. She fears this more. She wishes for the mechanical man she had just been dueling. But she sees his tears. Despite the harsh rain. She can feel them as if they were falling down her own cheeks. Their eyes lock simultaneously, in horror, as they realize how strong the bond has become. So close they were breathing in synch. But she feels his dread, and it suddenly makes sense. Snoke.

Lightening streaks the sky, and its thunder cracks through the air.

What has he done to you?  
He growls in reply. And shoves her away. Stalking a circle around her again.

“You shouldn’t be worried about me, kid,” he gives her a lopsided grin and her heart stops briefly. How dare he…

He lunges, bringing the saber up high then down, axing away any defense she had left in her, the momentum of the blows nearly buckling her knees, “You should know…”

He parries her own lunge, and catches one her arms spinning her until it was pinned between himself and her back. Painfully at an angle that could break her joint into two. He had her faced towards Luke, who horrifically was outnumbered and being more than matched in combat by his foes. He had underestimated the Knights, and she knew now they’d both pay for that.

Kylo tucked himself close to her ear, his breath low, “You should know… I was holding back.”

Their fight on Starkiller replays in her mind and she sees, through his eyes, all the opportunities he had to kill her. She sees all the times he chose not to. 

She’s ripped back to reality when he ignites his blade behind her and it rips through her middle, and juts out the front. Choking from the shock of heat searing her insides. A small pocket of hellfire. He’s holding her tight. Propping her up, as her limbs lose their steadiness. 

“REY!” Luke cries out, somewhere far away. She can’t tell, the edges of her vision inherited a sort of vignette. Things were fading in and out of focus. All she can feel are two large leather-clad hands guiding her to the ground. All she can hear is a deep rumble of a voice that compels her to stay down. Lightning strikes across the sky, and she swears she sees a massive cloaked figure sitting upon a throne with a hideously satisfied grin.

Something feels false in the monstrous smile. It seems ominous.

Terror floods her then. She should fear for her own death. She should fear the fact that she has a hole through her gut. She should fear that Luke is about to be slain. But she isn’t. She instead, desperately searches out Ren. It’s hard to find him, but he can’t go. He cannot go back to that monster. She remembers the torture. Remembers the insanity he bread into Kylo. The Force in her shudders painfully. 

Suddenly she feels him. Every fiber in her being feels his dread, his fear... And his pride in having protected her? Had he? He hadn’t stabbed anything important. She wasn't dead. She should be. Was he trying to keep her safe? Then the words Stay Down echo in her head. She realizes with sudden terror that Kylo Ren was trying to save her life... What has changed?

No, no, no, no, no. You can’t go. You can’t… He’ll kill you. 

She can feel Ren decidedly ignore her. She tries to stand, but an invisible chord pulls her back to the soil. She finds him then, walking back to the Knights, Luke knelt before him. Bleeding from his mouth and eyebrow. 

I’m so sorry, Luke. 

But Luke is looking to his nephew, who holds his saber high, ready to sever the Jedi’s head. Luke then closes his eyes. Kylo is about to strike, when one of his Knights skirts past him, walking towards her. Dread pulls at her heart, and it’s not entirely her own.

“What are you doing, Kiso Eyn?” Kylo growls, but when the lightning illuminates the terrain she can see the terror in his eyes.

“You have orders from Snoke to strike the girl down,” the knight turns briefly to face his leader, “But I have orders to make sure she’s dead.”

This, Kiso Eyn, stalks his hulking form the rest of the way to her mangled one. If she weren’t stabbed through the middle she’d be better at faking death. But she was fighting to stay alive, and her chest huffed up and down, and again. Eyn shakes his head, the helmet upon his head temporarily blocking rainfall from her face. He clicks his tongue, before raising he’s sickle-like blade.

Before he could strike it down to sever her head, a large gloved hand reaches to fasten around the hilt. And a red-orange saber blade suddenly springs forth from Kiso’s chest. Right in the center hitting his heart. The Knights’ mouth opens wide in a scream of agony, and falls to his knees. Rey watches as Kylo Ren then removes his head. Panting still, her wide eyes meet his.

"I told you to stay down," he grinds out, his hands are balled into fists, one still gripping the hilt of his ignited blade. They're shaking. He's terrified.

"What gave you the impression I ever listen?" He growls at her quip, but not before spinning to deflect a blaster's shot. He was not quick enough for the second. 

"Argh!" He roars. The wound steams from a hole on his dominant shoulder. He switches hands for his saber.

"The girl has you distracted," two of the Knights speak at the same time, one raspy and the other rumbling like thunder, "That was the last straw Kylo Ren. Snoke ordered us to finish the mission or finish you all. We don't see a difference."

"I would have guessed The Twins would be the first to rise to the bait. Well, come and get me."

They raise their rifles that she had mistaken for simple staffs. Both fire, and the bolts cross creating a plasma ball the rips through the air with a strong woomp-woomp-woomp shuddering against her ear drums. Kylo flips In the air above it, splicing the balloon in halves that arc down and land on either side of her body. The plasma incinerates the grass and water upon the ground. It steams, and she wastes no time pushing herself up from the ground, willing every fiber to move... He wasn't going to win this alone. 

Luke seems to have disappeared. And she grinds her teeth hard. He was never there when you needed him most!

Reaching out her hand, she summons the lightsaber. But before it could reach her palm, just grazing her fingertips, a striking violet bolt scorches her hand. Sparks fly from the saber and she sees the crack running down the hilt.

"Damn!" She looks over to Kylo who is fending off one of the twins and a separate Knight, but he's looking at her decidedly peeved.

"Tuck the somewhere safe, and refrain from damaging it further, if you wouldn't mind." He gives his opponents a little gain before using the momentum and his Force to shove them away. Droplets and wind giving way revealing a large semi-sphere. Rey is in awe by the power of it. She catches a smirk on his disgustingly smug face, and with a growl she goes to find her own footing. Much to her regret she does as he says with the saber.

Not that one. Go for the bigger one. She scowls at his idiocy. He rolls his own eyes, pointedly. She's clumsier. Watch her feet. 

She goes after the big one, defying common sense, and sure enough when the woman swings her club with an electric shaft, her feet tumble. Rey follows the second swing, dipping under the weapon and planting a leg between the giantess, Rey pulls an ankle up with it. The woman roars as she falls. The shaft hits her thigh and Rey wails herself, but her Force reflexively jettisons the weapon away. Her thigh tingles painfully as static burns at her nerves. 

"His compassion for you will either kill you or kill him. He's no good," the woman hisses at her.

"Yeah, well right now he's not trying to kill me!" Rey summons the staff and swings it down to stun the woman unconscious. 

Behind you!

Rey swings round to only barely catch a metal blade with the thick of the staff. Sparks fly.

"He may not be trying to kill you now, girl. But make no mistake, he'll be the death of you. You shouldn't trust him. And fighting us is feeble."

"And I suppose your attempting to take me on a date. You underestimate my will, Knight."

But before she could strike the Knight, over her shoulder she sees a Knight holding a bayonet-like staff while three others take the offense on Kylo from the front. He's using everything he can to fend them off. Everything he pushes one back with his Force, the other recoils. They have him surrounded. 

The bayonet gleams bright as it arches back; then lunges viciously forward. Reflexively she reaches out a hand to stop it, but the knight before her hits her gut, and striking her cheek with the end of his staff reinforced with his elbow. A gasp of air knocks out of her twofold.

"Agh!" A choked cry echoes through the air, and she feels cool metal tear through muscle and flesh and vessels. Her eyes widen and she looks down, grasping at her chest. When she sees that she isn't bleeding, if at all possible, more dread fills her and she looks up. Kylo is knelt now with a long blade jutting out from his chest. 

Why is she not rejoicing? Why had she called him back? Why had she cared if Snoke was going to kill him? Why had she cared at all?

There isn't an answer. Not really. But everything in the Force was screaming no. And it sounded very similar to her own voice.

Her throat is raw from the cry that tore through it. And the sadness and equal anger reach their peak in her and she lets it go. With a clap her Force explodes around her, much like it had an Ach-To. But now, there was something decidedly more violent about it. 

The Knights go flying who are furthest the epicenter of the blast. The Knight in front of her was not so lucky. With choked gasps his hands clutch his mask and rip it from his face. Eyes wide like those of an aquatic species, his mouth gaping, looking to his middle. Then he falls. Each half of him tremors in the cold wet mud. Then he goes still.

She feels drained, her breathes are shallow and her eyes sag. Then they find Kylo slumped in the murky ground. She half crawls, half stumbles, her way to his body. Fighting the urge to give into unconsciousness.

"Kylo!" She grabs at him, pulling him into her lap. Fear suffocates her. She goes to pull the blade. 

"No, don't I'll bleed out. Just leave it. If I die skewered then I die. But please don't make it faster," she exhales in relief, but not without rolling her eyes.

"What would you have me do then, you daft baby?" She's makes no attempt in hiding her frustration.

"The hilt. Break off the majority of it."

"With what?"

"The force, girl. Use the Force, dammit."

He tried to growl but instead he insights a fit of coughs, and blood dribbles a little from his mouth. She'd laugh at his petulance, but the red streaking down his chin makes her swallow.

She grabs hold of the rest the hilt with one hand, and hovers the other over it. The Force rumble within her and it bursts forth, and she hears a crack. Under her hand is a cleanly cut hilt. And she can more easily hold Kylo. They needed the body heat, or they would surely die. His eyes began to roll back. And his breathes became short and labored.

"Oh the hell you do! You are not allowed to die, you hear me! You have pestered me for months, and now you're going to die? No! You're going to live so I can torture you. I want my pay back," he's drifting away and she can feel it, "bloody hell! Damn you! Kylo!"

She slipping too, and she's about to let go when she hears the familiar sound of engines. Very familiar engines. And the Falcon rounds them to land. She can just barely make out the cabin but she can see grayed hair and beard, a hulking shaggy Wookie next to him. She smiles sinisterly. 

Oh this was going to be the sweetest of revenge.

"Well, Kylo Ren. Looks like I get my way for once."


	9. Confessions- Part 1

Somewhere on the fringes of his sight, Kylo sees light and shadows dance upon stuccoed walls.

Slowly, surely, his vision focuses and finds himself laying upon a thick mat. Next to him is a fire with a familiar aroma coming from broth boiling in a pot over it. Stirring the broth is his Uncle. Blue eyes boring into his own brown. Hand unperturbed in its circular motion.

"Is this the family reunion you hoped for? Staring ominously at your unconscious nephew?"

Luke scoffs; the tiniest of grins perks up a corner. The Jedi's eyes finally take reprieve, and watch the Aldaranian stew his mother would make him as a child. Something scrapes and cracks within him.

"Are you still my nephew?"

Kylo takes in every feature. The white speckled in his grey beard. The new wrinkles that have been stamped into the corners of his eyes. The paleness of the blues, where stormy cerulean used to be.

"I am me, if that is what you mean."

Luke locks eyes with him, again. He nods. The tersely inflection not at all unnoticed.

A short growl comes from the corner, and Kylo jumps, his aggression temporarily stayed. His eyes falling upon a bare torso save for bindings wrapped around a toned chest. Loose hair, still damp. Curling softly near the ends, and framing a freckled face. Brows stitched together in frustration. His scoffs.

Inaudibly cursing, Rey struggles wrapping her stomach wound over a bacta patch. Despite her pitiful state, Kylo feels nothing but contempt.

"She refuses to let me help her. But I can't say it isn't entertaining to hear her struggle," Luke chuckles, and Kylo realizes then that his uncle is faced away; that maybe he should look away as well.

"Or to watch," Kylo quips, her deep seeded hatred singeing the thick rope wrapped around their forces; the bond was stronger more than ever... She twirls viciously around to glare at him. Slapping the bandaging closed, finally. He nearly flinches at the sight. A phantom ache stings his middle complimentary to where her hand turns into a fist.

"Oh do! It'll give me good enough cause to gouge your eyes out."

Kylo shivers pleasantly at the sound of her furious voice. His brows knit together and he looks away, knowing she can feel his confusing reaction. In return her smug triumph wraps around the error, and with it is something else indecipherable. He ignores it. She peers over at Luke.

"And I keep refusing, because I have a feeling I shouldn't trust either of you."

"Rey, I told you-"

"Luke, you're not telling me anything! What happened on D'qar... What happened with him..." She flings a hand his way. Kylo watches as his uncle sits back in the chair, still averting his gaze

"There are reasons I can't tell you. It's Ben's place-"

He hears her jaw click from where he lays. Her face is the epitome of fury.

"It's Ben now, is it? It's his place?" Her shoulders are hunched and she is lurking towards them. But she walks past his uncle to stand directly before himself. Still sans shirt. Kylo's eyes never really leave her's.

"May I remind you, Luke, that he stabbed me and nearly killed you," she looks his face up and down; his scar burning under her stare, "He's a monster."

Luke is rubbing his jaw. Eyes downcast. Kylo looks to his uncle.

_Is it time?_

With a slight nod of affirmation from the old hermit, Kylo begins. But not before he props himself against the hut wall on the cot. Fluffing a cushion behind him.

"Now, are you quite finished? Or will I have to explain to you the happenings of D'qar through your vapors?"

She huffs.

"I think you'll need a shirt for this," he says, pointedly looking at her bare abdomen. She remembers herself and scuffles to the countertop where her tunic lays, all her failed bandages strewn about and the saber buried beneath it all. Crooked and blown. His heart clinches at the sight. But his mourning is interrupted by a stomping Rey returning to her perch, standing over him.

"Well?" He almost chuckles at her snark. But he's seen spontaneous combustion, and would like to avoid another occasion of flare burn.

"Killing you was never part of the plan, for starters, you know that."

"Do I?" She squares up, hands on her hips. Soft linen lining her toned thighs. His eyes fly back to her's.

"Your stubborn, not stupid. Although there is argument to the contrary... I told you to stay down."

"You had just stabbed me! Contrary to your belief, that would make someone think you want them dead. I was trying to stay alive."

_That's not what I remember..._

_Believe what you want, Ren..._

He feels frustration billow up within him. And not just his own.

"I purposefully aimed nowhere fatal... And skillfully if I might add," he looks to his uncle who is gripping his face in one palm.

"That's hardly reassuring!"

"I _felt_ you realize this! You're just fighting it. Like everything else!"

Her balk makes him want to crawl out of his skin and roar. She seems just as exasperated.

"You were going to kill Luke!"

"Kid, it's called a diversion. I was merely making it look as such. I was about to strike the rest of the Knights down."

There is a rumbling that he only slightly registers.

"Don't call me that," the words are feral coming from her lips, "You don't get to talk to me like we're familiar. I don't know you."

"Don't you?" He just can't help himself.

The rumbling grows louder, still Kylo is unfettered by it; though pottery and utensils all around them quake. She seems unfazed as well, her next words angrily pinching her throat. He watches her esophagus bob as she swallows quickly before exploding.

"You're a psychotic toddler who kills people! Kills a lot of people. You're a monster, and a delusional one at that!ll  
The rumbling becomes obvious to them now, but Kylo's need for the last word wonout over his peeked interest.

"You're in denial!"

"Enough!" Roars around them along with a prominent _Boom_. Uncle Luke stands abruptly as the door the hut blasts off its hinges and takes most of the wall with it.

"Luke!" Both he and she yell. They snap their mouths shut when their eyes fall on his furious expression.

"Neither of you has room to talk! Acting like two children," he looks to his nephew, "You need to explain yourself. Whether you like it or not."

Then something soft and deflated crosses Luke's face as he looks to Rey, "We both do."

Rey nods, showing the old man a little mercy.

"You didn't have to blow off the damn door, to make a point," Kylo grumbles, "my only request is that you refrain from blowing off anything else when you have another to make."

Luke grunts in exasperation. Then he shudders sadly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and he leaves.

"Look what you did," she goes to follow him.

"Don't," he warns- she stops. Her face still angry.

"Why not?"

"Would you want to be followed?" He looks at her earnestly. Gauging her intent. She looks away from him, stubbornly. But he sees the lines of her back relax.

"No- I wouldn't."

Huffing, she goes back to the counter to realign tools and kits. He watches. She feels his eyes on her and her back tenses again. His brow furrows...

And then it seems it is her turn to be perplexed. As she hears stones tumble and wood creak as the wall and door reassemble. The hut patched together, almost better than it had been before.

She turns to see Kylo's hands raised. His eyes closed. She feels a bit of her force glowing along with his, as he tapped into his light to fix the damage. When his eyes open she turns away again.

She splays her palms flat on the surface of the counter, leaning into them, "What happened?"

She remembers the cold. The darkness that snuffed out all his raging flames. Their heat and dependably chaotic ferociousness simply- gone. They burn. Scorching flare burns into her force now, having gone days without the company. She hears him shift. More likely he is standing ram rod straight, legs parted; martial.

"Snoke got a hold of me. It has happened before. If I fail. If I show weakness. He tortures me, until nothing but the Dark side shrouds over me."

"You expect me to believe that?" She turns to look at him, then. A lifted brow; daring him to say yes. Hoping for the opportunity to scoff at him.

He looks down at his hands. Large and scraped. Stained, though there isn't any blood on them.

"No, I don't."

She still scoffs at him. But she takes a moment to breathe; thinking...

"Why did you come back? I mean-"

She looks away. He knows what she means.

"You did something. Looking around in my head, again. Perhaps it was your Force alone, but it melted away the cold... Thank you."

His appreciation leaves his lips with a sharpness.

She's walking aimlessly about the hut. Either consciously or no, she wraps arms around herself. He watches.

"Thank you?" Her voice cracks. His heart is pounding. This is too much. He has said too much. He breathes deeply as she continues, "isn't it your goal to be the embodiment of the Darkside?"

"It was. But that's all a moot point now," Kylo's bitterness is not at all lost on her.

"Sorry for saving your ass, I guess," she growls. Turning back to the task at hand. Picking up bandages and tossing them into a crate.

"No, you've misunderstood me-" he stops.

How was he going to put this? How was he going to make it right? Years. Years of shrouding himself in darkness. All to finish what his grandfather started. And he failed! How was he ever going to repair the damage? He should have died... But the sadness... The girl. She feels so much and it leaks into his Force.

"Ahem," they jump. Luke stands in the crumpled doorway, "perhaps we should continue our discussion. Ben, you should be resting."

Kylo would scoff if he weren't inhumanly aware that he is still weak; sweating even now... His standing to repair the door had taken significant will power, and he requires assistance. Rey's wide eyes, and rapid breathing leave no doubt she has come to the same conclusion. And Luke doesn't look to be up for the task.

She shakes off the hesitation, "Well let's get it over with then."

Her hands brace under his arm and elbow, as he plants his boot clad feet to bend his knees. He exhales abruptly, letting go of a breath he hadn't known he was holding, as he sits unbearably slow. His abdominals nearly giving out from the exertion.

They sway for a moment but then she has his wrist swung over her shoulders, and her other arm wrapped around his waist. He swallows deeply. She smells like sand, and sunlight... _That's ridiculous; get it together Ren_.

Her footing falters a bit and she looks up, puzzled, at his face. He looks at the dirt floor, or the shadows dancing on the wall as they pass it, or the drizzle outside; anywhere but at her.

"Is this okay?" Her voice shakes. He gives. He looks at her. His rear finally meets the mat. She turns back, probably to get something, but stops short as he speaks.

"Yes... You could have used the Force you know," he says matter-of-factly and she only huffs in reply. The insecurity of the moment battling with her indignation. She leaves him alone as she situates the quilts. He watches. Her mouth twitches.

"Yeah, well, you can move yourself next time," he chuckles at this. She's startled. They stare into each other's eyes. He's shocked himself, as well.

Luke breaks the moment, "Alderanian stew?"

They jump apart. Having somehow come closer.

"I don't have the stomach for it just now," she grinds out. The shock is gone, and only frustration ripples through their bond.

Kylo grabs hold of stubbornness to will himself past the enigma that is this connection with the scavenger, and prepares his confession.

Rey seats herself across the fire and adjacent his uncle. She looks intentionally at the flames between them all.

"Where do I start?"

Luke harrumphs, folding his arms, "You're stalling. For her sake we shouldn't sugar coat this."

Kylo looks to her, the only change in her expression is her brows. Pinched in the middle where he knows her skin is covered in microscopic down; translucent. Her eyes shoot to him and they narrow. He shakes feeling the of dread away. Letting a bit of his dark force shield the little thought; she rolls her eyes.

He clears his throat.

"I was five when I first heard Snoke. I'm sure he was there longer, but I only remember being conscious of him from then on. At first he'd only be there when I was alone. When my father would leave, and my mother would be in a committee. He'd be there when they were in the other room sparring. He'd be there when I'd slip up, and my force would act before I understood what I was doing- or that it was even me doing it. And then he was always there... whispering to me. Turning my ill-perceptions into truths. I know now they were lies, but as a child you believe anyone claiming to be your friend. Claiming to be a constant. Especially when everything around wasn't. My mother knew. I felt it. She feared me. Or maybe she feared the darkness shrouded over me. But it wasn't until my ninth year that I began to feel pain. Indescribable pain. So she sent me to live with Luke. For a year he trained me as best he could. The other students were necessary to heal the balance of the Force, so Snoke capitalized off my isolation. He cultivated the pain I was feeling, where he could boil all of my fear and loathing. And when he promised me release- I accepted."

Rey's lip worries between her teeth. Hands are fists on her thighs. She looks as if to scold him, he feels her holding back, but she holds her tongue. And he tampers down his exasperation- where was the explosion he'd been expecting?

He continues.

"Four years he taught me through the Force. Four years Luke was also my master. I was decent in the ways of the Force in the Light, but I excelled in the Dark. I found my home in it. And when rumors of my heritage came to surface. I knew. It was my destiny. But Luke... Luke taught me of my Grandfather. Not Darth Vader... He showed me Anakin... It was then a veil lifted, and I saw what it was that truly held my fate. I had to finish what my Grandfather started. I had to defeat the Darkside."

Rey's whole body froze. Suspended in that moment it seemed, and she found Kylo's eyes. And the earnest, profound truth she saw there made her want to scream.

"Luke?" She pleads with the Jedi. She was exceptional at math, and this only added up to one outcome.

"I knew," Luke began, "When I failed. When I lost your mother... a story I'll tell you when you wish to hear it... that I was not going to win this fight. It had to be someone else. It had to be someone Snoke wanted. So I taught Ben as much as I could, but I did not fight his need to finish his quest. The Force willed it. I know not why it had to be him, but I see now he was the only living embodiment of both sides. Grey enough to stay the course. Though he did give me a fright these last few years.."

"Then why were you here? Why come here?" She's livid... she knows why but she has to hear him say it.

Kylo is looking to his uncle. Perhaps sharing her sentiment, but there is a slight echo of understanding in his eyes. They each made their choice.

"I was ashamed that I let my nephew turn fully to the Darkside. I let him sacrifice his self to this cause. I was a coward. And I couldn't face my sister. So here I came, to wait for my nephew to succeed. Here I came to mourn my kin."

"A bit dramatic, but I suppose so was my suicidal mission," Kylo choked out dryly, rubbing his neck with a shaky hand, he clinches it and sets it on his thigh. His eyes meet hers, "I intended to kill Snoke, and die trying."

She holds her breath. Fury, hurt, empathy- pity. She feels a reel of emotions without a grapple.

"So when you-- you actually meant-- I can't believe-- you're lying-- this is all a lie!"

Luke stands to comfort her, whilst Kylo rolls his eyes.

"And why is that, exactly?" Yes... They're both seething. This is what he's wanted.

"You killed so many people! You're a monster!"

He's shaking, his knuckles straining painfully.

"Yes. I did. I am," his throat betrays him. She hears his voice crack and all her fury is washed away with that small, infinitesimal aberration. And something clicks in her mind.

"I won't be your firing squad. You can live with your own self-hatred. I hate you, but knowing you hate yourself is justice enough for me," she looks to Luke, "you need to fess up to your sister."

"Oh don't worry- he already has," Kylo and Rey nearly crawl out of their skin, because as if conjured through the very mention, there stands Leia in the door of the hut.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review, share, kudos! I love the attention;) no seriously... it motivates me.


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